


Interdependence

by Deadpuff



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Relationship(s), Sexual Humor, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:32:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadpuff/pseuds/Deadpuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a lovable story-telling rogue. When opportunity strikes to get rich, you take it!<br/>Given the mission to steal the dreaded Kylo Ren's mask for an eccentric man named The Collector, you find yourself getting slightly too invested.<br/>Just .<br/>Slightly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bard's Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time doing a Star Wars fanfiction, so I hope it turns out! 8D  
> If you have any suggestions/critique's please let me know! owo/

Vrelock raised a pint to the sky, his single eye watching the condensation dribble. All around you your shipmates did the same, yourself joining in as well.  
“Tonight we’ll get rich, or die trying!” the Abyssin stated. Despite being in a crowd of numerous species, your daring leader stood tallest, surveying the scene with passion and no small amount of dignity. At his words you- along with the rest of the crowd cheered, and a moment of silence lapsed as you all downed your drinks.  
  
You were stationed at a warzone currently; between the New Republic and the First Order. While the clash was a minute scale considering the past fights, it was enough to draw in some scavengers. That was where you came in; when the chaos ended the battlefield would be ripe for the picking. Armour, weapons, and any other valuables the camps and bodies had to offer. It would certainly turn a profit- although the atmosphere was still tense.

As you nursed the remainder of your drink, Vrelock fixed you with his gaze. Renowned for their violence it may have looked strange for an Abyssin to look upon a human such as you with such fondness, but he was like a father to you.  
  
“Snowbloom, tell us a story.” Vrelock prompted. Your shipmates turned to face you, eyes bright and curious. This wasn’t a strange occurrence, you were known for your tales.

  
“Alright!” You agreed, getting to your feet. You placed one foot on your chair, a brilliant grin flashing.  
  
“And what story shall I tell?” You asked, taking another swig from your drink.  
  
“When you stole a headlight off the Millennium Falcon!” Someone called.  
  
“When you slept with that Wookie!” Another jeered. Your face reddened at that one  
“It was one night!” You shouted back.  
  
“When you joined the crew.” Vrelock said; he didn’t speak up but his voice carried. Or perhaps your ears were simply trained to hear him.  
  
There was a chorus of agreements, so you obliged.  
  
“Alright. I met Vrelock when I was fifteen.” You began, setting down your pint finally. It had run dry.  
  
“I lived on the planet Kessel; which is well known for its mining. My mother tended the home while my father repaired mining equipment. My sister had left home by then, doing safety for the miners. I myself worked at a little bar off the side of town called Shanterra’s.  
  
As you would imagine it was stuffed with sweaty men, and there was dirt on everything, from the food to the beer. I would be generous to say it stunk like an Ewok’s back-side.  
  
I was a waitress. And god it was boring. And every other week the place would get destroyed by bandits and marauders trying to claim the mining sites. Let me just say I was well acquainted with the mop and bucket.  
  
So one evening I’m washing tables, when the door slams open, and this big bloke, with one goddamn eye comes lurching in. He’s gotta duck to get in the door. Right behind is another crew of seven. He’s creepy as hell, and I- along with everyone else figure he’s gonna trash the place. So I go to the back to get my mop while the rest of the patrons go running out the back door.”  
  
Now the place is clear aside from the tall bloke, and I’m right pissed; see whenever someone skips out on paying their drink it comes out of my paycheck- save for when bandits trash the place. But these guys don’t touch a thing, they just take their seats. So now I have to pay for all the drinks the miners left.”  
  
So I walk up to the table and take their order, and as I walk away I see the big fella has a huge wad of change tied to his hip. We’re talking a solid three hundred credits just sitting in the open!”  
  
You pause to wet your tongue, someone had brought you another pint.  
  
“So, I get their drinks from Shanterra who’s up at the bar, and I bring it to the table. I start from one end and I work my way to the other, ending with the big fella. Just as I’m putting down his pint I catch my foot on the leg of table and spill it all over him.”  
  
There’s a gasp, along with a chorus of laughter.  
  
“I’m lucky Vrelock is a nice guy, any other Abyssin woulda had my head. So I grab a cloth and I’m dabbing his shirt and blubbering ‘Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!’ and as I do, I move the cloth over to that there pouch of change and whisk it right off his belt. He didn’t even see a thing. I return to the back, get him another pint and then take my break.  
  
An hour or so passes with them just sitting there chatting; and my shift finally ends. With the change tucked into the belt of my tunic I walk to the door casual as can be, and step outside; free as a bird!  
  
I make it about four more steps before my I realize my feet aren’t on the ground no more. The damn Abyssin had followed me out, and was holding me a good two feet off the ground like I was nothing!  
  
I’m shaking in my boots, right terrified, thinking I’m gonna die right here outside a damn pub in the middle of the nowhere- when he starts laughing! I’m hanging there shell shocked, ‘cause first I think he’s got to be choking or something with the sound he’s making. He drops me on the ground and I go to make a run for it, but he’s got my arm in a death grip. He spins me around like we’re dancing and fixes me with a grin. I’m about ready to puke I’m so scared.”  
  
Vrelock is grinning at this point.  
  
“He ruffles my hair then, and says ‘You know you almost had me there, wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t reached to leave a tip.’ He says. I’m still just standing there stalk still. ‘You’ve got quick hands. Would make a good thief.’ He went on, releasing my arm. I just stood there. After a moment I grabbed the satchel and handed it back to him, but he wouldn’t take it. ‘Keep it Snowbloom.’ He’d said, and then he just turned and walked back inside.”  
  
You were smiling now. That was also when you had earned the nickname Snowbloom, after the resilient and beautiful flowers.  
  
“After that he would come in every few months, and every time I would make a game of stealing something else from him. Change, to weapons to jewelry- I once stole a ring right off his finger. But I never kept it. Just dropped it in his pint when I made my way around the table. It was a great game to say the least.”  
  
You went on, a faint smirk lingering on your lips. It faltered as you continued.  
  
“That year my Dad got his hand caught up in a mining machine as he worked on it- took it clean off. The medical bills were expensive, and I tried to put in what I could- we all did. But it ended up getting infected. After my sixteenth birthday he was too sick to work. He was our main source of income and I was desperate for money. Next time I saw Vrelock at the tavern I begged him for a job. I would do anything, as long as I could bring in some credit; and he obliged.”  
  
“I got my things that night and boarded their ship. I had never been on a ship before and it made me feel terrible, I yacked at least twice before we were even fully off the ground.” You mused.

  
“I remember that!” Someone called from the back of the room.  
  
“The crew was actually really nice, and once I got over my nausea it was quite fun. We stopped at an outpost to look for something I could do, and I ended up accepting a mission to break into the bandit base on some moon. Apparently they had a safe hidden in the lower levels with a necklace belonging to a noble, who wanted it back.  
  
We landed on the moon that evening, and I was _so_ nervous. I stepped off the ship absolutely shaking, but figured the guys would back me up. They didn’t. Second I was out of the craft they were gone. And then there I was alone on some planets moon. Talk about irresponsible!” You jested- your voice still carried the same notes of indigence it had back then.  
  
“Sounds like something we would do.” Someone commented, you snorted in agreement.  
  
“I managed to break into the base through an open window in the back. It was extremely dark, save from some candlelight in one of the central rooms. It sounded like they were drinking. I had managed to get by them no problem, and made my way down stairs to the basement levels. There were multiple rooms, which I ended up finding filled with either sleeping bandits or junk. The last room had a hatch in the floor which I would have missed if I hadn’t tripped on the handle.  
  
 When I opened it up, there was a really long ladder, which I took down. In there it was pitch black, save for these… rocks sitting on a desk in the corner. Well it was more of a crystal, and there were several in a cluster; colourless but emitting light. I pocketed them, before moving onto the safe.  
It had a crazy lock on it, something seriously intense. I had no idea how to crack it, so I just picked it up. It was a good fifteen-twenty pounds, but small enough that I could tuck it under my arm.  
  
I guess someone had heard me down there, ‘cause there was shouting upstairs.  
Suddenly I was illuminated by a blinding light shining down the ladder, and someone hollering in another language. From the dark depths of the room, there was a grating of metal.  
  
The light went out and I pulled out one of the crystals to see. It had started shifting to a sort of pale amber colour.  
  
Out from the dark came- I shit you not- a bloody Rancor. I have no idea how the hell they got it down there, but there it was. It’s back scarped against the ceiling, which I realized was made of dirt, as it left showers of earthy powder.  
  
I made a break for the ladder but when I got to the top the hatch was blocked, I pounded on it with my free hand but it was shut tight. The Rancor had seen me, and took a swat at the ladder, reducing it to splinters. I plummeted off, landing on the beast shoulders. I dug my fingers into the fringes of its back plate, and managed to hold on, safe tucked under my chin.  
  
It reared around, but couldn’t shake me off cause of the low ceiling, it ran rampant around the room, scattering bones on the floor. I honestly don’t know how long it went on, but I didn’t let go. Eventually the beast tired itself out and just collapsed on the floor, and I kind of dropped off onto the ground as well. I was too sore to budge, but it didn’t come after me. I don’t know how to describe it, but there was a sort of harmony, or truce maybe between us. As if there was an agreement none could best the other.

I don’t know what time of day it was or how the planet worked, but it became cold, so damn cold, that I ended up resting against the beast. They live in savannahs if I’m correct, so it must have been cold too. I could even see my breath. I guess I fell asleep, because I remember waking up to a commotion.  
  
A man stood in the hatch, dropping down a new ladder. The Rancor and I looked up at the same time. It stood, charging the man the second he placed the ladder firmly on the ground; he had a bag at his hip, which smelled of rotting meat. It jangled with keys as well; he must have been its caretaker. In his other hand was a stick with sparks dancing from its tip, which he prodded the Rancor back with.  
  
I stood when he got to the floor, and it must have shocked him that I lived. In his hesitation he lowered his weapon and the Rancor seized him in its jaws. She- at least I think it was a she- swallowed him in a single gulp, save for the bag and weapon which dropped to the floor. I grabbed them. There was indeed meat in it, which I tossed aside for the beast, along with a set of keys and a light. I dropped the weapon, letting it roll aside so the beast remained calm, and tucked the safe and crystal into my new accessory. Removing the light- a flashlight of sorts, I stood to check out the room.  
  
The half near the ladder was like an office, with a desk and papers. The safe had stood alone on its own table. I tried to climb the ladder again but the hatch was shut tight still. I figured the man had locked it behind him.

 Dropping down I surveyed the back of the room. It had a tunnel and a large gate where the Rancor must have been penned. I approached it cautiously, but this beast seemed to be the only one. It was following behind me hesitantly, almost like a docile cow.  
  
The back of her pen was also gated, closed shut with a hefty reinforced padlock. I fiddled with the keys, but actually managed to unlock it. We followed the tunnel for a solid hour, before arriving outside, a few miles from the base. I was leagues too far from our rendezvous point, and I was sure Vrelock had forgotten about me.

Thank god I was wrong.

No sooner than we had stepped out of the entrance did his familiar ship descent from the sky.  
  
Vrelock had come tumbling off the ship first- yes you were tumbling- and grabbed me in the tightest hug I’ve had the displeasure of being a part of.”  
  
“I thought you were dead, Snowbloom!” Vrelock piped up, gesturing with his free hand.  
“We all did.” Mused another.  
  
“You would think the hard part was opening the safe, but it turns out the keeper had the key. The real hard part was getting the Rancor on the ship.”

  
“You brought the Rancor on board!?”

  
“Of course.” You nodded.

  
“We returned the necklace and I gave the Rancor to a farmer. She’s still there!”  
  
“The whole mission had actually taken four days, and when I… When I returned home my father had passed. His infection turned to sepsis and his body gave out. Debt collectors had come to my home after that and torn it apart. My sister had returned to find it destroyed and my Mother near death as well, having narrowly survived the attack. I gave them the money but… they didn’t want anything to do with me. My sister thought I was a traitor for leaving, and skum for turning to thievery. We stayed at her home, and I intended to live alongside her but, when I woke up the next morning she was gone; as was my Mom. I guess they had moved away in the night.” You said.

Your voice was quiet.

Only you and Vrelock had known the true revelation after that.  
  
Around you there was a solemnest. You took a breath.  
  
“I met back up with Vrelock and told him what had happened. He offered me a position in his ship; with the title thief.” You concluded.  
  
Normally your stories left people laughing but now they were staring at the floor, looking forlorn. You cleared your throat.  
  
“I have been with this crew for five years now. Had I not been a victim of tragedy I would have never had the opportunity to meet people like you. I grew up with the mindset that everything was black and white. You were either good or you were bad. But we’re not; we are tiny points on a spectrum to wide to measure. There are those on this ship who have done unspeakable deeds, killers and assassins and mercenaries, and yet they have the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen.”

You tipped your glass to Vrelock. “I do not regret a single minute I have spent with you all. _We’re a family_.” You concluded there were cheers from around the entire ship, and another toast.

 


	2. First Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and your squad head out to loot a war-zone, and naturally; chaos ensues.

You awoke stretched out on the table, face submerged in drool; whoops. Sitting up you glanced around; everyone was bustling; trying to put their stuff together for the raid, equipping weapons and bags to hold armour, knives to cut away whatever was loot-able. There was heaviness in the air; it made your chest tight and pressed on you like you were under water.   
  
You readied never the less.  
  
Getting to your feet you restyled your hair to something more appropriate for battle, and donned your gear; a hooded cowl and a jacket over a loose tunic and close-fitting pants. There were twin daggers at your hips although you seldom used them- despite your five years on the team you had seen few battles.   
Following the rest of the crew you stood in the center hall, Vrelock was in the doorway.   
“Team one, you will head to the New Republic side, they fell back to a new camp up on the hill. Loot the one closest to the battle field and come straight back, team two you do the same but on the First Order side. I want team three to sweep the field itself. Team four; we’re going to ambush the scout patrol. I want everyone back here in one piece by sundown. Remember; no loot is worth a life. Be safe.”   


With that the doors behind him slid open, and the groups broke off. Naturally you were in group four, with Vrelock, Tsenna- the wookie, and Zril and Thenn the Iktotch. Sliding down the ramp on your heels, you followed Vrelock’s lead, taking position behind him. You marched along the cracking earthen planet, keeping low to the ground.  
  
You had been the one to steal the scouting schedule off of a stormtrooper’s body only a day prior, you hoped it was still consistent. Taking shelter at the base of a stack of stone, you all waited with bated breath for the patrol. In this lapse of excitement, you took the opportunity to stretch, you muscles still tense from the heavy atmosphere. “I have a bad feeling about this.” You whispered to yourself.   
  
There was a sudden light sound of footsteps on earth. You peaked around your hiding spot; there were ten storm troopers together, with one dressed in chrome leading the patrol. You wanted their armour; consider it the scavenger’s desire for shiny things.   
  
Like a well orchestrated pack you waited for them to pass, and then Vrelock leaped forward, causing the stormtroopers to raise their weapons. Before they could respond Tsenna appeared from the other side of the rock, and the party moved to fan out and face the two of them. Next was Zril and Thenn each equip with blasters. They fired shots into the crowd and the crowd fired back. Thenn took a hit to the thigh, and her brother faltered to check for her safety. As he did so a storm-trooper shot Zril in the side and he too fell. This wasn’t looking good.   
  
Vrelock readied his war hammer, charging forward like a rabid beast, and Tsenna followed in sync with her own weapon. One stormtrooper fell, head a mash of skull and helmet, then another. They were eight to four. Vrelock let out a roar, and he and Tsenna came together, in a massive frontal attack. Thenn came from the side, limping but alive. Her eyes were blazing.   
  
Now was your chance, the party was all facing on direction. You crept from behind, their back wide open. Unsheathing your daggers you jabbed one cleanly through the neck of a trooper. As the one on his flank turned you slit their throat and they also fell. Six to five. Thenn was shot through the mid-drift then the face, six to four. Vrelock and Tsenna preformed a synchronized hit four to three.   
  
The silver trooper was furious. Abandoning whatever formation they had been trying to hold together the chrome soldier lashed out, armour glinting. Vrelock had the sense to shove Tsenna behind him before the Chrome soldier washed them in a wave of blaster fire. Seven rounds, seven rounds had found their way to Vrelock’s chest and torso, and he collapsed.  
  
You gasped in horror, and Tsenna threw back her head in a great howl of anguish.

“Retreat!” You called, causing the chrome soldier to turn. Your eyes met with the visor of their mask.  
  
They raised their weapon and you raised your voice. “Stop! Stop, please god, just stop!” You shouted, you could feel your hands shaking. The chrome solider didn’t fire.   
  
Tsenna looped an arm around Vrelock and she turned to flee. You scooped up Zril, running past his sister’s corpse.   
  
When you were finally in the safety of the ship you dropped Zril’s body down onto the medical table, alongside Vrelock. A medical bot activate immediately; the ships only one.   
  
You ran around the edge of the table grasping Vrelock’s hand. You didn’t know you were crying until he touched your face.   
  
“Don’t fret Snowbloom I’ll be fine.” He said, his voice was hoarse. The medical bot hovered for a moment, and Vrelock and it exchanged glances. It moved on to Zril, who cried out in pain as it tended to the sear.   
  
“What are you doing? Let him help you!” You shouted, Vrelock waved his hand. “Crew first.”   
  
You tightened your fists, the energy around you crackling. The energy… “I- Vrelock I should have told you. I felt it. That… sinking, feeling. That something bad was going to happen I- I should have said something. I’m so sorry. If I had said something this wouldn’t have happened.” You sobbed; you had sunk to your knees.   
Vrelock placed a massive hand on your head, tousling your hair as he did.   
  
“Chin up, I’ll be fine. It’s almost sundown, call in the others.” He said.  
  
“But I- I can’t leave yo-”

  
“That’s an order.” He commanded. Despite his ill form his voice still rang strong.  
You clenched your jaw, nodding, and stepped away.  
  
Quickly, you walked to the entrance of the jet, communicator in hand. You smeared your tears away before speaking.  
  
“Thief reporting in, Team One what is your location.”  
“Approaching the craft! We’ll be back in five.” The leader reported back.  
  
“Team Two?”   
“Right ahead!” Someone replied. In the distance you saw a silhouette waving.  
  
“Team Three?”  
“Almost there! You would not believe what we found!” They cheered.   
  
You set down the communicator, scanning the horizon until all three parties were in sight. You then turned, heading back to Vrelock.  
  
You stopped just short of the doorway, he was speaking with someone.  
  
Tsenna.  
   
You could recognize her low growls.   
  
“…Mission? Do you really think she’s in any shape for a mission?” Tsenna was saying.   
  
“What we’ve got here- it isn’t enough to cover the dept. Our situation is hopeless if we don’t at least try. And she’s best suited.” Vrelock was saying. The bot was crouched over his wounds.   
  
“What are you even planning on having her do?” Tsenna said, her voice disproving.   
  
“The collector, he wants-”  
  
“The collector!?”  
  
“I know he’s a creep but he’s offering insane credits for it. We’re talking at least 1.3 _million_ credits for one mask. That will set us up for years! And give us a new ship. And while she’s there we can pawn off any secrets to the Resistance for a solid thousand a pop.” Vrelock wheezed there was a smile on his face.  
  
Tsenna was frowning.   
  
“After this war I bed The Resistance might even pay extra. This is our opportunity to make it big. Just one more heist. It’s what I want.” Vrelock concluded.  
  
You took a step away from the door, your footsteps silent.  
  
This was Vrelock’s dying wish; to have you set up the crew for life. You would do it. You had to. For him. For your family. The other teams arrived on board and you backpedaled out of the room to your quarters.   
  
Nobody would stop you.  



	3. Brief Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small exchange between Vrelock and Tsenna to clear things up.

Vrelock let out a deep sigh, his wounds aching. He could feel the blood draining out of him with every heartbeat. He grasped Tsenna’s hand in his own. 

“Is she gone?” He asked softly. 

Tsenna nodded. She still looked disproving.

“Do you think it’s gonna work?” She asked.

“I hope so. The Force is getting stronger within her every day. And I don’t know whose side she’s on. If we give her this opportunity; to see the dark and the light, maybe she’ll be able to move forward and choose her own path. She can’t keep staying neutral in this world. It’s changing and she must change with it.” He said, breathing a sigh.

“And if she happens to bring in a big fat wad of cash while she does it…” He shrugged, breaking into a smile. 

Tsenna shook her head, amused despite the situation. 

The rest of the crew crammed into the tiny room, showing off what they had managed to take in. They had a great supply of stormtrooper armor to sell off, along with some quality blasters. The Resistance also lost a currier of some kind, who had news of their future plans, along with some old vehicles and weapons.


	4. The Collector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet Mr. Deal-maker

You tucked your hand in your pockets, feeling forlorn. The ship had left the warzone, and was now resting at a pit-stop on some jungle planet. There was a party going on in the main room, with pounding music and drinks, to celebrate Thenn’s life. Her brother was in the center, dancing as best he could despite his wound, drunk as could be. 

Looking away from the celebration you made your way cross the deck and up the stairs to Vrelock’s room. He had been stabilized, thank god. 

You knew you shouldn’t bother him while he was recuperating, but you needed to talk about the heist. Resolving yourself, you knocked on the door.

“Come in.” He responded, his voice was stronger.  
“It’s me.” You said, letting the door bump shut gently behind you. 

“Of course, although I thought you would have visited sooner.” He said with a smile, and you dipped your head in apology. 

“Sorry, I didn’t want to bug you. How’re you feeling?” You asked, approaching his bedside.

“Like I got shot seven times.” He mused. “That Chrome soldier was really not what I expected.” 

“Well they were literally silver. I mean, aside from adding a flashing sign that says ‘don’t fuck with’ I don’t think they coulda made it clearer.” You laughed.

He nodded. “That’s probably true, bad luck.”

“Very.” You added, and you lapsed into silence. 

This was awkward. Maybe you would return another time.

“Well I should probably let yo-“ 

“I have a job for you.” Vrelock interrupted. 

You stiffened, looking to the side. 

He smiled, and you knew he knew you had heard. You kicked yourself for thinking he wouldn’t notice you. Parents always knew. Er, adoptive parents… Captains. 

“There’s a file there on my desk detailing it. Should bring us in a lot of cash.”

You nodded once, hands behind your back as you approached the desk. With one slender hand outstretched, you picked up the thick heap of paper- which was neatly tucked into a file. With it clamped firmly in your hands, you sat in the chair next to Vrelock’s bed. 

He smiled at you, his green skin looking ashy. 

You glanced down at the brown cover, opening it up and reading the first page. It was a handwritten note. It was addressed to Vrelock. 

 

“Dear Captain Vrelock,

My sources have informed me you have a master thief aboard your ship. I seek simply the best, and I would like to implore her to get a little something for my collection.   
When you’ve lived as long as I you get to see many things, and you form many memories. I had thought I may not find a suitable object to help me recall these years; but then I saw it.  
Oh it’s simply delightful I must have it.

Kylo Ren’s mask. 

I know what you’re think now Vrelock , how will she get aboard? Well I have it all laid out. There’s a female stormtrooper by the name of ‘TR-8690’ who’s been a part of the army, training since birth. And guess what, she’s the spitting image of your little thief. Swap them out, and none will be the wiser. TR-8690 seems to keep to herself, doubt anyone will miss her. If you’re interested simply drop on by!

Just this one little task and that 1.3 million credits is yours for the taking. 

Get back to me soon!! 

Love,   
The Collector”

 

“He sounds eccentric.” You concluded.  
“You have no idea.” Vrelock snorted. 

There was a moment of pause as you reflected on an image attached to the file. This ‘TR-8690’… she really did look like you. Although she had a pixie cut, unlike your own lengthily locks. A haircut would be in order. Her eyes were also a bit further apart, and she had a distinct frown. 

“I would like to do it...” You stated, tapping the image back into alignment with the other papers.   
“But I don’t want to leave you. What if your wounds get infected?” You said. You couldn’t help but think back to your father.   
You couldn’t handle it; if another was taken from you. 

“Look Snowbloom. I’m gonna go one day or another, you cannot change that. You are a wonderful person, who lives in the moment. Don’t let past ghosts haunt you. Move forward, make your own way. This is your opportunity.” He said- he was fixing you with his eye.

You looked at the file in your hands.

“Don’t get all soft on me now. You need to stay strong so we can roll in all these credits.” You said playfully, getting to your feet. He laughed a hearty laugh. 

“Well, I’ll get my things together, and have Tsenna take me to The Collector.” You said clutching the file. 

“You already have your things together.” Vrelock replied, amused.

You flushed. He could read you like a book.   
“Right.” You nodded, exiting the room. 

 

With your things together you said a final good-bye to everyone, before leaving with Tsenna on a rented ship. Seems they had been preparing for your decision for a while. You slept for most of the trip, waking just as the shuttle touched down. You were unsure what planet you had landed on, but it was crawling with other species. All around you massive buildings towered, casting shadows over your head.

Tsenna must have been here before, as the massive hairy female wove her way through the crowds like an expert, heading to a very distinctly shady alley. Prying open a door you had not seen in the wall, she waved you inside. You were taken aback by the sight. Containers upon containers stacked stories above your head, holding every manner of thing; animals, plants, aliens, objects- skulls to teacups and every conceivable material in between. 

You were in such awe you didn’t notice the approach of a very glamorous man. He had snowy hair piled atop his head in the gaudiest style. There was glitter under his eyes and he was wearing some sort of detailed skin-tight body suit that left very little to the imagination. He had a silk cape too. It was swishy. 

“Oh you made it! Oh I am positively floored to have you here.” He said, immediately grasping your hand. 

“They call me The Collector.” He introduced, toting you along to a pure gold table, heaped with what you would generously call junk. Tsenna hovered at your side. 

“So I hear.” You responded, watching as he leaned over to pass you a tea-cup. It looked ancient. He poured a fluid into it that smelled like engine fluid and chocolate and had the consistency of honey. You passed on taking a sip, instead folding into the lawn chair pulled up to it. 

“Look- as great as sitting and chatting over tea…? Sounds, I would like to get right to the mission. If it’s still available.” You stated, pushing away the cup. It was giving off fumes. 

“Of course of course of cooours, what was I thinking. Oh it’s just been so long since I had guests.” He said, taking a slurp of his drink. He was gesturing wildly with his free hand. 

“Then we’ll just dive right in.” He said, letting the cup fall to the floor. 

God he was weird. 

“I presume you examined the file already? This means I simply must do something with that dry excuse you have for hair.” 

As he spoke he stood and grasped your head, he had long lacquered fingernails. From somewhere behind him he found a pair of scissors, and began rapidly snipping away chunks of your precious hair. 

“H-hey! You trying to massacre my scalp?” You accused, although you were too afraid to swat at him lest he remove one of your fingers too.

“Hush honey I’m working.”

You grumbled in response. Tsenna snorted with laughter, her roars echoing throughout the chambers. 

As you watched a pile of hair gather at your feet, and woman entered the room. “Ah, the Thief has arrived. Shall I put the operation in motion?” She asked.

“Absolutely!” The Collector exclaimed you felt the scissor whiz by your ear. 

“Operation?” You questioned.

“Not surgical sweet heart, the operation to kidnap the stormtrooper. These things take time you know. Although it shouldn’t be exceptionally long- just enough to get you ready.” He went on. You sighed internally with relief. 

“How ready do I need to be?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well we have to get you all trained up. These troopers are taken in from birth. We’ll show you the basics, how to fire a blaster, die for your leader, and a touch of medical training.” 

You frowned. 

Wait, die for what? You didn’t want to ask. 

Silence lapsed around you in waves, until The Collector finally stepped back. He handed you a silver plate for which to view your reflection.

Wow.

You really rocked a Pixie cut. It brought out your eyes, and cheekbones too.   
Should have come here sooner. 

Tsenna looked tearful when you glanced at her.

“My little girl, oh you look so grown up!” She growled, embracing you from your seat.

“It’s just a haircut!” You joked, although you really did feel different. Like something was changing finally.


	5. TR-8690

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Stormtrooper

Tsenna left that evening.  
The goodbye was brief, a mere hug and concise words of encouragement.  
The family had never really been one for goodbyes.( Which was fine, as long as you got one.)

After your Wookie companion left The Collector vanished as well, leaving behind two voluptuous females- his servants- to teach you.  
This began with blaster basics; which went from proper hold, to aiming and firing, to repairs and fixing jams as well as cleaning.  
There was a brief pause where you wolfed down a meal consisting of some kind of tangy meat and bread. It was actually quite good, if indiscernible. 

From there you reviewed the blaster training and moved onto medics. You were taught how to properly bandage a wound, stop blood loss, do a proper cauterization, create and apply salve from several different herbs as well as how to sew suitable stitches. It was rough work, but you managed. 

After watching an informational video on blaster wounds, you were sent to bed- much to your relief. The room you were given was piled high with more garbage, although the bed was thankfully clear. The mattress was made of some kind of foam, which practically swallowed you up as you lay down upon it. 

Sleep claimed you almost immediately; throwing you into turbulent dreams of marching stormtroopers and aching wounds, along with ghastly men whose faces you didn’t recognize.

When you awoke, the cycle was rinsed and repeated; this time including a somewhat forceful bath; where The Collectors servants held you down and scrubbed you raw. It was about as pleasant as it sounded. 

It all became routine- going on for a solid week. Just when you were falling into step with it, it was broken. 

As you stitched together a homeless mans arm for practice, the front doors to the building swished open and a crowd marched in. Their faced were obscured by cowls, all except for one shining white helmet. 

“Tryn! Oh you’ve made it finally!” Said The Collector, materializing from somewhere behind you. You had seldom seen him at all this week. 

“Tryn?” You asked, stepping away from your patient.  
“Ah, yes. I forgot to mention, this is Tryn! Or as you know her, TR-8690.” 

“I thought stormtroopers didn’t have names… And I thought you were kidnapping her? Shouldn’t she be bound?” You asked, eyebrows knit together. 

The Collector winced, and Tryn fixed him with a disproving look.

“About that. See… Tryn and I go way back. She saved my tail a few years ago from a group of marauders while working under the First Order. In exchange I promised I would free her. In order to do so I would need to fake her death, and thus needed someone who looked exactly like here.” He explained. 

Your eyes widened.

“You’re going to kill me?” You sputtered.

“No no no! Well, yes. That was the plan. I was going to lure you in with a deal, kill you and switch you out with Tryn. But then I saw that lovely mask and the pieces just fell into place, two birds with one stone you might say. If I replace you with Tryn she’ll be able to go free, and you’ll be able to take her place, and get me the mask! Perfect, isn’t it?” He said, clapping his hands. 

Your expression must have been exasperated, as he placed a ‘comforting’ hand on your shoulder. 

“Don’t look so glum, it all worked out! Besides, those 1.3 million credits still have your name on them.” He chuckled. 

With that he strut away, followed by the team of hooded men. Tryn remained behind, shifting to remove her helmet. 

“Sorry to double cross you kid. But it all worked out fine. I mean, you are alive.” She said, grinning. 

“That’s true I guess.” You said with a shrug. This was a lot to take in. You tried not to dwell on it. You had a job to do.

“The boys tell me Collector’s been training you. That going well?” She asked. She even sounded like you.

“Yeah, I just hope they don’t see through me. A week pales in comparison to a lifespan.” You huffed.

“Well it was mostly conditioning to favour The Order. Just be sure to put them first. You’ve got the medical stuff down right? And you’ve seen battle, so that shouldn’t be an issue. Just try not to stick out, alright? And if a General orders something, you damn well better do it. They’ll notice if you hesitate.” She warned. 

You nodded gravely. “Will do.”

Tryn smiled, taking a stretch. 

“I was a nobody on the base, and you- you’ve got character. I’m sure you’ll fit right in. Besides, my squadron was killed off when I was “kidnapped” so there’s nobody to notice the difference.” She added, smiling in spite of the dark nature of the fact. This disturbed you, but you said nothing. 

“Anyway, you best suit up.” She went on, beginning to strip down. You averted your eyes out of politeness, which he seemed to find amusing. 

When the armor all lay separate on the floor, you did not hesitate to step forward, putting it on with relative ease. It fit you quite well.

“The spitting image.” Tryn remarked she was looking you up and down. Behind her The Collector returned, flanked by his two servants and the cloaked gang. 

“It’s perfect! Like your own reflection!” The Collector said to the ex-stormtrooper. 

“Yeah… but I did just survive an ambush. I need to be bloodier.” 

Before you could respond to the remark, Tryn shoved the flat of her palm into your visor, which promptly rushed your nose, causing it to gush. The cloaked men surged forward as you reeled back, brandishing junk you had yet to notice. They hounded on the polished armor until it was dented and cracked, and you body was bruised and bloody. 

“What the… hell.” You barely managed to say, crumpling to the floor. As you peered out from under the mask you could see The Collectors foot. 

“Goodnight, Tryn.” He purred.


	6. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find yourself finally with the First Order; but what happened?

  
Your head was ringing.  
And you were moving.  
Was someone shouting?  
  
You felt a weight under your left arm as someone dragged you to your feet.  
“Where am I?” You asked groggily, taking in a wheezy breath. Your ribs ached with every breath. Tilting up your head you saw a flash of metal, shiny and silver.  
  
Whoever was supporting you took a step forward and you pitched to the side, you legs not wanting to stand.  
A female voice cussed, and you were slung over their borad shoulder.  
Your vision was bleary but you could see ground passing beneath you, and blood dribbling from your helmet onto the dirt.  
  
You faded back into blackness.  
  
When you awoke once again your vision was clear, and someone had removed your helmet. You were lying on your back, in what appeared to be a ship.  
  
Everything hurt.  
  
“TR-8690?” Someone asked, you looked up- the voice was coming from a stormtrooper. It all came back to you. Vrelock, the mission, The Collector, Tryn…  
  
“What happened?” You asked again, sitting up slowly.  
  
“I can’t say. But it’s good to have you back.” Replied to trooper.   
  
“Good to be back, I guess. Better than lying in the sand anyways.” You responded, rubbing a hand through your hair. You forgot it had been cut short. The trooper snorted in response to your comment, but before he could say more a mechanical door swished open.  
  
It was her.  
The Chrome soldier.  
The one who had killed Thenn. Rage rose in your gullet. You swallowed it.  
  
“Captain Phasma.” The trooper greeted, dipping his chin.  
  
“GM-4358.” She responded, dipping her head in response. “Leave us.” He did so.  
  
You were surprised to find her a her. She was strikingly tall, a solid two meters.  
  
“TR-8690, I’m glad you’re awake. Do you remember what happened?” She asked, pausing to stand at your bedside.  
  
You were at a loss for what to say.  
  
“I… I remember I was out with my squadron, somewhere with sand. I don’t remember what we were doing, but we were ambushed. They took us out so quickly, I barely had time to respond. I tried to fight back but I guess I was knocked out.” You stated, Phasma was nodding.  
  
“Well you must have succeeded in your mission before the attack; we located Resistance plans in your bag.” She went on.  
  
You hid your confusion; had The Collector and Tryn planted them? Something about that sounded familiar; you recalled back to the loot from the warzone. That courier had been carrying the Resistances plans… You had brought them with you to sell off to The Collector! He must have left them with you.  
  
“Oh, right, I recall finding them on a courier. After the battle with the resistance.” You amended. Hopefully that was where you had been stationed.  
  
Phasma nodded again, you thought she might even be pleased. Apparently you had been. Thank god.  
  
“Very good Trooper; see to it your wounds are checked again before you leave.” She said, turning away with a swish of her cape. She paused before the door.  
  
“Also, you have mail. It’s in your room.”   
  
With that she went through the door, and it slammed shut.  
  
You let yourself flop down onto your bed. You’d definitely dodged a bullet there. And you didn’t know whether or not to be thankful.  
  
You pondered just lying in bed for a while, but that would just leave you time to get anxious.  
  
Stretching, you swung your feet over the edges of the stretcher you had been laying upon. Before your foot could even touch the ground a droid activated.  
  
“Patient TR-8690 please remain still while I perform a health check.” Its metallic voice stated. Why did everyone here have a metallic voice?  
  
The bot rolled around the floor up to your bed, and fixed you with a scan.  
  
“Facial laceration: Healed  
Nasal break: Healed  
Cranial damage: minimal- slight concussion; treatment: ice  
Chest damage: Healed  
Minor lacerations: Not of concern”  
  
It backed away from you then produced a pack of ice from its chest.  
  
“Examination complete; patient is clear to leave. Excessive exertion not recommended.” A scroll of paper printed from the side of its body, and you stood to take it along with the ice. Once removed, the bot retreated back to its corner.  
  
“I really racked up a score.” You muttered to yourself, placing the ice on your head. Someone snorted. It was that stormtrooper from before, you had not noticed him re-enter.  
  
“I didn’t take you for the funny kind, Tryn.” He mused.  
  
“I guess a blow to the head does that. Maybe knocked a few screws lose.” You jested, and he laughed. You supposed this wasn’t so bad.  
  
“Say, I don’t suppose you know where my room is?” You asked.  
  
“Inviting me in?” He snickered.  
  
“If you’ll be gentle.” You giggled back.  
 “But seriously, do you know where it is? I honestly can’t remember.”  
  
He rubbed the back of his helmet.  
  
“Well _yeah,_ but I’m supposed to stay posted here.” He said grudgingly.  
  
“Well once I leave it’ll be empty, and you’ll be watching nothing.” You commented.  
He didn’t argue with that.  
  
Him in the lead, the pair of you marched down the halls of the base. When you heard the name First Order, white pillars and marble floors came to mind. When you thought f the dark side, spikes and skulls came to mind. This was neither.  
  
Rising above your head was an intricate maze. Made entirely of metal; the clank of boots could be heard from nearly every direction, along with the whurr of computers. At least it had some red lighting here and there. That was a little spooky.  
  
When you finally slowed to a halt, your legs were soar from waling and your ribs were aching duly.  
  
“This is your quarters. Since your squadrent was killed, you were moved to a newe one. They’re kind of odd, if you ask me. So you should fit right in.” The trooper said, patting you on the shoulder.  
  
“Gee thanks Gam.” You snorted.  
  
“Gam?” He asked, giving you a look.  
“GM, kind of sounds like Gam. Besides, you’re giving me a headache like the Gamma sun would.” You laughed.  
  
Despite the insult he seemed flattered; perhaps he had not had a name before.  
  
“Carry on then, Tryn. Perhaps I’ll see you in the mess hall.” He said, stepping out the door.  
  
“If you’re lucky!” You shouted back.  
  
Before you stretched a somewhat narrow hallway, with four separate doors; the one furthest back on the right was open, and you assumed it was yours. Peaking in said doorway, you noted your bag on the bed, along with a small heap of letter which had been carefully opened and closed again. You supposed privacy wasn’t really a thing here.  
  
As you approached the bed your door slammed shut, causing you to jump. You would have to get used to that.  
  
Sitting on the edge of the bed, you found it firm, but not precisely terrible. You looked through your bag, finding a small satchel of money, along with the folder your stolen plans had been in. Along with some casual clothing, there was also a small stuffed animal that you slept with, which you quickly stuffed back inside.  
  
Setting the bag aside, you grasped the letters. You organized them by the dates which they were sent.  
  
The first was from Vrelock, from a little under two weeks ago. He must have sent it the day after you left.  
  
“Hey Snowbloom, hope You Know Who isn’t creeping you out.  
We held a going away party. At least that’s what we called it; everyone was missing your stories so we got drunk.  
  
Talk to you again soon kiddo.  
  
Love, V.”  
  
The next was from six, also from Vrelock.  
  
“Snowbloom, the ship is a lot quieter without you.  Know you’re gonna ask, so let me say I’m doing fine. No infection, I promise. We sold off what we got from the Warzone, and turned a good profit. Got back Thenn’s body too and had a proper funeral. Things have been kind of dull. Although You Know Who sent us a picture of you, with that new haircut of yours.  
You were training with a blaster.  
Looking really sharp kiddo!  
  
Love, V.”  
  
There was a third from him, from five days ago.  
  
“Snowbloom.  
  
You Know Who said he shipped you off. I don’t like the way he worded it. Tell me you’re okay, okay? Mail me back when you can. If you can. We miss you. Hang in there.  
  
Love, V.”  
  
Your eyes welled up as you folded the letters and put them away. He had left the names vague to throw off anyone reading the letters, but you knew Vrelock’s writing for sure.  You tried not to cry, thinking of home and the family. At least Vrelock was alright.  
  
You folded your knees to your chest, trying to think of something else. It was no time to be sad. Focusing, you thought of the order in which they were sent. If his last letter was from five days ago, and it was reported you were dropped off… That meant you were unconscious for at least four.  
  
It was unnerving knowing you had been here on this ship, for four days already.  
  
There was one more letter, in a golden envelope. Sent today. It was no secret who that was from. When you opened it, glitter exploded onto your chest, and you heaved a sigh. The paper inside was neatly folded, but blank. Peculiar.  
  
You tilted it at various angles, trying to see if it was a code, but appeared simply blank. You looked at the envelope, it had a single phrase.  
  
“Stay fabulous, stay _hot_!”  
  
Hot? Did he want you to light the paper on fire or something?  
  
You looked around, the only source of heat you could find being a sad bedside lamp. You put the note under the bulb, and turned it on. To your shock and awe, a message gradually scrawled out. How?  
  
You looked the paper over once more, ythe faintest scent of citrus hitting your nose.  
  
You’re kidding, you thought.  
  
Weirdo had used that kid trick of lemon juice and water for ‘invisible’ ink. And it had worked!  
That certainly said something about the first order.  
But never mind that. You were looking over the paper.  
  
“Dear Tryn,  
  
Sorry about the beating. It was necessary I swear; besides you look like a total badass with a facial scar. Very sheik! Anyways, enough about that; below I included some info on the base and the mask- you know- the important stuff. Didn’t want the troopers to find it on you, so I had to send it in the mail, sorry! Everything should be there… well, mostly pictures and some background on the guy wearing it. Spoiler!1 He’s a General, maybe I should have mentioned that… But you’re a tough cookie right?  
  
Anyway, best of luck, love ya!  
  
-Kisses; The Collector.  
  
P.S. Real-Tryn says hi!  
P.P.S Destroy this letter after you get the details!!  
  
P. P. P. S. BYE!!”  
  
Below that was a list of information.  
  



	7. Chef Tryn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get to meet your new Squad mates, and check out your new job!  
> You also have your first brush with General Ren, ooooo!

You played with the edges of the paper as you read, there wasn’t really much to go on.  
  
The Mask was owned by a General named Kylo Ren. Apparently he controlled the station with one other man; General Hux. Leadership under them fell to Phasma- the chrome soldier. All together they took orders from some guy name Smoke, or was it Snoke? You couldn’t tell The Collector’s handwriting was extremely loopy. (To the point where the cosmetics ruined its legibility.)  
  
Under this shorthanded chunk of basically useless information was an absurd amount of drawings of the mask. It was black, with a single hole where one’s eyes would be, surrounding the ‘eyes’ was wrinkled metal, like a scowling old man’s face. Over the mouth was a somewhat rectangular chunk covered in leather, which was ruined and marred from battles you presumed.

These drawing were rather detailed, The Collector was actually quite the artist.  
  
You couldn’t imagine why an artist would want something so ugly. This Kylo Ren guy must have some serious facial issues if he was bothering to cover it with this.  
  
You leaned back. If you were to wear a mask it would be something cool. Like a skull, with spikes on it. Or big horns. Hell yeah. You nodded at the thought, causing the ice pack on your head to plop onto your bed. You forgot you were wearing it.  
  
You breathed a sigh, plucking it off the now dampened sheets and getting up to toss it into the trash bin beside the desk and sad lamp. Dropping the lump of mostly water, you also tore up The Collectors letter.

Vrelock’s letters you saved however, folding them carefully and placing them beside the lamp.  
  
You supposed you could write back, it’s not like you had anything else to do.  
Probably.  
Searching the desk, you found a drawer filled with clean white parchment, along with a pen. Pulling out the worn metal chair at the desk, you took a seat, and hunched over the paper.  
  
“Hey Vrelock!”  
  
You began.  
  
Was that too casual?  
Dear Vrelock?  
  
No that sounded too formal.  
  
You set down the pen, and the door to your room swished open suddenly.  
A stormtrooper poked their head in, then waved.  
  
You stared back at them, confused.  
  
“Hey! I’m Mk-3310, I’m in the room across from you.” She introduced through her helmet. At your raised eyebrow, she removed it.  
  
“They call me Mikayla, and you’re Tryn right? Wow, you really do look banged up.” She said, staring directly at your face. Your cheeks reddened, and your hands went to the wound on your face. It ran under your left eye and just to the center of the bridge of your nose.  
  
“Thanks. I’m working on the rugged look.” You said, leaning back in your chair, she laughed, and as she did so another head popped in the door. This one was a man, with dark skin and a mess of crazy curly black hair.  
  
“Oh, Tryn’s here?” He said, looking excited. How did they all know your name already?  
As if reading your mind the man spoke.  
  
“Our team was too small to go on any missions so we were benched until we got a number four. When they found you they sent word that our team would be permitted to leave once you were here. And you’re here!” He said excitedly.  
“Who’re you? And there’s another?” You asked, standing.  
  
“I’m DO-5114, but they call me Deo. Blank is our other member, but he’s kind of shy. Anyway, glad to have you on the team! I think you’ll fit in fine. We’re all a little weird.” Deo went on to say.  
  
“Really?” You inquired, following them out into the hall. Mikayla and Deo seemed to be leading you off somewhere, and you followed.  
  
“Yeah, all four of us are the leftovers of squadrons. Mikayla’s were killed in an ambush on the same planet yours were. Attacked by a bunch of crazy scavengers. They even had an Abyssin on their side, crazy right? Only she and Phasma made it back.” Deo went on, Mikayla was nodding along solemnly. Your breath caught in your throat. Had that been your doing? It had to of been. You felt a slight wave of sick, but remained quiet.  
  
“My team was killed a while back when our craft caught fire. And Blank... well his team mysteriously disappeared.” Deo said with a shrug.  
  
You weren’t really listening at that point, just marching through the halls.  
  
Deo and Mikayla chatted idly as they marched their way through the winding stretch of metal path. The group only stopped when they met the entrance to a large room.  
  
“This is the mess hall!” Mikayla stated, gesturing to the metallic expanse lined with tables. There was a cook space behind it, and a row off hot-tables crowded with food separating it from the crowds.  
  
“We eat here three times a day, and you have to be on time or you miss it. Phasma said you were reassigned here, which is honestly so lucky!” Mikayla said, patting you on the back.  
  
“Why was I reassigned?” You asked.  
  
“Because you can’t remember anything. Phasma doesn’t want you electrocuting yourself or crashing a Walker. It would make her look bad.”  
  
When Mikayla saw the sheepish look on your face she smiled reassuringly.

“It’s really a great job! Way better than working in the cold! Just don’t mess up the General’s meals and you’ll be fine!” She nodded.  
  
“Well, Deo and I have garbage duty, but we’ll see you at meal time!” Mikayla waved and turned away, strutting down the same dim metal hallway.  
  
Rubbing your arms you walked into the mess hall, approaching the counter.  
“Hi, uh, I’m here fo-“  
  
“You’re late.” A man said, whirling around.  
  
“I’m already twelve minutes behind on the General’s meals! And you aren’t even changed! Go get your uniform and change in the back. I expect you out her in less than five.” He snarled, and you quickly scuttled around the corner. There was a white pressed uniform laid out on the back counter, which you took into what you assumed was the back room. Switching swiftly into the starchy shirt, you made your way out the door.  
  
Before you even took a step into the kitchen the man pressed a book into your hand.  
  
“Page 619, ingredients are in the back room and freezer room, supplies in the drawers here and here, and the cabinet here. The recipe makes one portion size, you need to make three, one for each of the general’s and don’t even THINK of under or over cooking something.” He said, all in one breath.  
  
You blinked at him.  
  
“Go go go!” He shuffled his hands at you.  
  
You skittered away, turning to the page directed.  
  
It was a recipe for lamb chops, tossed green salad and a baked potato. That didn’t sound particularly hard, you had done your share of cooking on the ship. Checking the fridge you found the meat marinating already- thank god, which you pulled out, along with three potatoes and a large variety of vegetables. You spent the majority of time chopping said vegetable and waiting for the potatoes to cook. When the salad was done you seared the meat, and added the potato, deciding to go the extra mile by making two kinds of dressing and a variety of sides for the potato.  
  
Just as you finished putting them together the other chef, your boss? Strut up. He looked pleased.  
  
“This will do, I suppose. Run it to their rooms and be back before evening to do the dishes.” He commanded.  
  
Loading the dishes up on a cart, you wheeled your way out, a hastily written note with room numbers directing you where to go. Despite this, you still had to stop for directions every once in a while.  
  
The first room you came across was general Hux’s.  
The door slid open at your approach and you placed the tray on his desk.  
  
“You’re _new._ ” He said through narrowed eyes.  
_No shit._ You thought sarcastically, nodding in response.  
  
“I hope it’s up to standard. Leave me.” He said, gesturing to the door. You nodded again once and hightailed it out of there, right to Phasma’s office.  
  
She was more responsive when you entered.

  
  
“TR-8690. How’re you fitting into your new career?” She asked pleasantly.  
  
You placed the trey on her desk. “It’s better than I expected.”  
  
She nodded, removing the cover. The smell of food made your stomach growl, and the steam fogged up Phasma’s helmet. She removed it at once and you were taken aback by how pretty she was.  
  
You cleared your throat. “I have General Ren’s meal to deliver still, so I must be going.” You said politely, she winced.  
  
“Next time I recommend serving him first. Off you go.” She said, nodding to the door. You took the queue and left, bustling your cart around until you were at General Ren’s room. Something in the air made you feel tense. Probably Phasma’s warning about being late. The doors did not move when you approached. Should you… knock?  
  
You wrapped a knuckle on the door, hands shaking as they held the trey. Usually the air around you circled and flowed, like a cycle. But here it was all out of order- like it was spewing untamed from a source. Not quite with the flow of a river, but also not as wild and purposeless as a fire. It was confusing. Maybe the air conditioning was off?  
  
As you pondered this feeling the door flew open, making you jump for probably the third time today. These goddamn doors. You poked your head inside, the room was completely black.  
  
“Uh, meal’s here. Sorry for the delay.” You said, your voice quiet. Your voice echoed back to you, despite the softness of your tone. You took a tiny step in. Then another. A dark shape which you assumed was a desk loomed ahead, and you carefully placed the trey on its edge. Without another words you sprinted from the room, hightailing it back to the Mess hall.

 

The chef locked eyes with you the second you stepped foot back in the room.  
  
“Where are their plates? Are you just going to leave dirty dishes there? Like some sort of slob? Go and get them!” He said, gesturing angrily at you. You didn’t want to go back.  
  
“What if they’re not done?” You asked.  
  
“Then you wait!” He spat back, gesturing wildly with his hands. People were starting to look at you funny.  
  
“Yessir.” You said eventually, walking out of the room. You had to force your legs into motion. You started with General Hux, whose dishes thankfully were sitting outside the door, as if you were room service. (Which you basically were.) Phasma was just leaving when you approached, and she gently stacked her plate on the one in your hands.  
  
“Very good TR-8690. And you’re still here.” She said pleasantly, stepping around you.  
  
“For now.” You croaked, but she didn’t hear you.  
  
You had to physically make yourself march back to General Ren’s room, the energy here was still tense. You lifted your hand to knock but the door opened. You reeeeeally didn’t want to step inside. You could see the plate in the same spot on the desk, empty. You collected it.  
  
You took a tiny step back, then another. But before you could fully leave the doors shut, sealing you in the dark.

  
  
Ah, you were going to die.

  
  
You tried to run but someone seized you by the scruff of your new clothes. Strong leather-clad hands snatched the plate from your hands, and smashed it against the closed door. You yelped in surprise. As you did so the hand holding you whirled you around, shoving your back into the door.  
  
“Don’t you dare serve me late again, cook.” A voice snarled it was deep and mechanical and terribly menacing. You stared back with wide eyes.    
  
“I-I’m terribly sorry. It won’t happen again, not ever.” You stuttered, as you raised your hands in defense.  
There was a slight pause, which confused you. Your eyes were locked with that hole in the mask.  
  
The mask! Here it was in the flesh! Had you not been frozen in terror you might have had the thought to grab it.  
  
“You are not-“ Ren began to say, before immediately stopping.  
  
“Clean up this mess and get out.” He then stated, turning around and stalking away.  
  
You obliged, never doing such a quick or thorough cleaning job in your life. Perhaps it had surprised him into sparing you, the fact that you were not the regular cook.  
  
When you returned to the kitchen your boss regarded you in surprise, probably because he thought you would be dead. You got shit for the broken dishes, before being left alone to clean up.  
  
Doing the dishes had a strangely therapeutic effect. As you scrubbed suds away your mind reflected on the day, you would have to write what happened to Vrelock.

Late evening you turned in, finding the bed feeling softer than ever.  
It was actually easy, falling asleep.  



	8. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Force Awakens!  
> And I say the title of the work in the chapter, eyyy!

_“Can you hear me, child?”  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Don’t be afraid, relax your mind.”  
  
“I’m scared.”  
  
“What do your instincts tell you, should you be afraid?”  
  
“…No.”  
  
“Your mind is clearing, do you feel it?”  
  
“What is this? This pulse?”  
  
“It is; Life Force.”  
  
“Life Force. I can feel it… I’ve felt it.”  
  
“Yes. It is strong within you…”  
  
“Are you leaving me?”  
  
“Only for now.”  
  
_ You awoke to the sensation of being shaken, eyes snapping open in sudden shock. First was darkness, then a terribly bright light.  
  
“Oh, sorry!” Mikayla said. The light dimmed.  
  
The shorter girl was standing hunched over you, her long and curly dark brown hair nearly touching your face.  
  
“We have our first mission!” She said excitedly, hands still firmly on your shoulders. She released you so you could sit up, and fix her with a proper puzzled look. You could feel your hair sticking up in every direction.  
  
_“Now?”_ You asked incredulously.  
  
“Well no, this evening.”  
  
“So you woke me up for no reason?”  
  
“I was excited! Besides, Chef Rinter wants you in the kitchen to help pre-make meals and stuff.” She explained.  
  
You groaned, flopping back into bed, and tugging the monotone covers over your head. You just wanted to sleep, you had the faintest imprint of a dream in your head, but the harder you tried to remember it, the more evasive it became. With a great exertion of effort, you kicked back the sheets, and rolled your shoulders, standing as Mikayla stood, then stretching with the drawn out pleasure of a cat in a sunspot.  
  
You had been on the ship for about a week now, having fallen into a new routine. Routines never bode well with you, they resulted in facial lacerations.  
 Although the mission aspect was new, hopefully it would go over well.    
  
With your starchy chef outfit tucked under your arm, you followed Mikayla to the Showers, where you scrubbed away the cobwebs of sleep with icy water. Starkiller base’s plumbing was fine; hot water was hardly in short supply, but you really needed something to shock your head out of the clouds. The here and now was where you needed to be.  
  
You toweled off swiftly, and quickly clothed your barren skin. Despite being stiff, your chef outfit was actually decently warm.  
  
Waving good-bye to Mikayla in the doorway, you left for the Mess Hall. The room had been rearranged, with all the tables aligned in a single row. There were boxes upon boxes across the entire surface, each being filled with a very standard meal. It must be only a day trip, as some of the foods would go bad over a short period of time.  
  
Chef Rinter waved you over when he spotted you. “Good, you’re early. I need you to start on a beef stew, use our biggest pot; I need at least four hundred servings. I’m going to start the rice. The pudding was put together last night- and don’t you dare try and sample any. I’ve got a trooper coming in with hot water; so you need to start brewing tea as soon as it arrives.” The man stated, gesturing with his hands. He was talking really fast again, you were thankfully getting used to it.  
  
 Putting on a pair of gloves, you made short work of the massive block of beef Chef Rinter had thawed for you. By duel wielding knives like your old daggers, it hadn’t stood a chance. With that browning at the base of a large skilled,you chopped up an array of vegetables, dropping them too into the pot. (This along with enough water to drown a squadron.) And then came a great array of spices which had thankfully been premeasured. As you thickened it up with cornstarch, you heard the armor clad steps of the trooper.  
  
You recognized him by his walk. He was pulling along a huge water cylinder on a cart.  
  
“Gam!” You said enthusiastically, waving your free hand in a greeting. The other was still firmly clasping a wooden spoon.  
The trooper approached wordlessly, and you guided him into the back. Removing the lid of the water cylinder you watched as steam crawled into the air. It was near boiling. Stepping back to the kitchen counter you retrieved a strainer filled with assorted herbs, and placed it gently atop the cylinder. It fit just well enough that the herbs remained suspended on top. The scent it gave off was extremely enticing, like spiced fruit.

  
It reminded you of when your family would sit around the fire; wrapped in a comfortable silence.  
_Your family.  
 _ You pushed the thought away.  
_  
_ Satisfied, you turned to the Trooper, he had removed his helmet.  
  
“You recognized me?” He said incredulously.  
  
“Well of course, nobody else walks with such swagger.” You said a cheeky grin etched into your features.  
  
His face cracked into a smile, which quickly fell away as he manoeuvred his helmet back onto his head. Chef Rinter approached, an eyebrow arched accusingly.  
  
He looked between the two of you a moment, as if daring one of you to say something for the interruption, before he took a step forward, right in front of Gam; effectively blocking any future  conversation. _  
  
_ “See to it you socialize _off_ duty, TR-8690.” He said venomously. He looked you over once, as if mulling something over.  
“I have soldier coming in to pack the food. You’re dismissed. Go waste someone else’s time.” He went on, shooing you away.  
  
Did you detect fondness in his tone? Perhaps not. Eager to leave, you tugged an overcoat atop your uniform.  
  
“Looks like I’m free!” You cheered. “You up to anything?” You asked, turning to face Gam. He had his arms folded leisurely against his chest; at least, as leisurely as one could look wearing bulky armor.  
  
“I was going to return a book of mine to the library before my next shift, care to join me?” He invited.

“As if anyone could resist and offer to spend time with you.” You said flirtatiously.  He rubbed the back of his helmet sheepishly, beginning to lead the way out of the Mess Hall. You followed, more amused than you probably should have been.  
  
As you walked in tandem with the taller man, it occurred to you that you had never been to the library. You didn’t even know this place had a library.  
  
“What kind of books do they have there?” You asked, as the two of you passed under a foot-bridge.  
“Mostly propaganda for the First Order, as well as some history; there are lots of books on schooling too, like to be technicians and stuff.”  
  
You nodded at this thoughtfully.  
  
“I’ll have to check something out, reading beats staring at the walls of my room all day.” You said, casually enough. That seemed to be all you had been doing with your spare time lately. With the threat of discovering hovering over your head like a guillotine you were trying your best not to make waves. It would probably be abnormal to see a Chef’s assistant wandering the halls. Or was it weirder nobody saw you out at all? You had never thought of that.  
  
As you flit through mild panic, Gam leads you through a large arched doorway. Said doors were currently propped open, magnets holding them in place. Weird they had normal doors here instead of those slidey-slammy ones. Must have been one of the few aesthetic choices in the whole building.  
  
Immediately your senses were assaulted with a rich cornucopia of paper, ink and leather binding. While bards told their tales through voice and song, you never resisted a good book. As you gawked at the high jet black shelves, Gam chuckled.  
  
“I’ll leave you to it. I’ve gotta return this and run to my next shift.” You nodded mutely in response, eyes still scanning the shelves.  
  
Approaching the first isle, you let your fingers graze the spines of row upon row of books. Gam was right when he said they were mostly propaganda. Titles were flashy, always stating some great doing the First Order had preformed. It was almost gaudy. These records of triumph gradually faded away into manuals, and then educational books. You were slightly disappointed they didn’t have any fiction. Guess they didn’t want to propagate any form of imagination.  
  
Stuffing your hands in your pockets, you marched the isles, occasionally pulling out the odd text and flipping through it. You had found yourself in some branch of History, when a book caught your attention. It was old, very old, and terribly ugly and worn. Pulling it out gentle, you found the cover torn.  
_  
“Surrounding, Binding, Being; A guide to The Force.”  
  
_ It read.  
  
The force.  
Force.  
  
Your dream!  
It all came flooding back to you, like a tidal wave over your mind.  
Yes, you could recall it now.  
You had been standing, alone.  
It had been dark all around you, a weird suffocating dark.  
Someone had spoken to you, with a gentle voice, calm and flowing like a breeze.  
He had comforted you, emploring you trusted your instinct. And then it had happened; that blossoming in the center of your chest- no- your core. And suddenly the world around you was _alive._  
  
The sensation returned to you, this time stronger, no longer clouded by the tangential quality of dreams. This was real. This was… The force? The Living Force. The man had said.  
  
You had felt it before, more so in recent times. Like on the battle field where Vrelock had been wounded, you had felt it there. Or rather, a lack of it there. It must have been the loss of life.  
  
You tucked the book under your arm, filled with resolve.  
Checking it out with great haste, you all bug jogged back to your room.  
  
Your evening was spent nibbling stolen crackers from the kitchen, and reading this book.  
There was so much you didn’t know; the light side, the dark side, life and physical, unifying and cosmic, all these different versions of the force. With each of these came abilities, some unique to their respective sides, others general. Like telekinesis or mind tricks.  
  
Mind tricks. You had always thought you had a talent for coercion. But perhaps it was no talent at all, perhaps you had really just been using this… this power all along.  
  
Like when you commanded Captain Phasma to cease fire on your scavenger band. Yes, you were sure of it.  
  
You read until your eyes tired. You would have to leave with your squadron soon. Perhaps a quick nap first. Your eyelids grew heavy, slowly drooping shut.  
  
_We meet again._  
  
_Yes, I- I remembered my dream, er, I remembered this? Is this a dream?_  
  
_In a manner, yes. Although I would levy it more as… meditation. We are connecting through mutual serenity. It is easier to reach you this way._  
  
_Who are you?_  
  
_My name is Qui-Gon jinn._  
  
_Is... That supposed to mean something to me?_  
  
_To others, yes. But to you, no. But it will._  
  
_I see. Do you have more wisdom for me? You are contacting me for a reason, aren’t you? Does it have to do with the war?_  
  
_Yes._  
  
_Yes wh-_  
  
_Shut up a moment!_  
  
_Sorry._  
  
_You are not the only person on this base to have been touched by the force. Someone of great power precedes you. Your fates are… intertwined. Without one the other cannot exist. Interdependence. While I do not encourage you to chase destiny, I do suggest you test your new ability. Perhaps you will find your parallel._  
  
_My parallel being the other one touched by the force?_  
  
_You are ill suited to riddles aren’t you._  
  
_as a story-teller I have a great appreciation for riddles, it’s just that this seems like something you should really not be vague ab—“_  


For the second time that day you were awoken. Although you dream, no, meditative… journey? Was still fresh in your mind.  It was Deo, he was grinning.  
  
“Hey Tryn, rise and shine. Your new armor just came in. Best you suit up; we’re leaving for Jakku.”


	9. Camouflage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *insert scream emoji here*

Dusk turned the light slanting into Starkiller base’s red. Illuminated by the bloody sun streaks, you put on the Stormtrooper armor for the second time. You could feel the excitement in the air around you, like the sputtering sparks of a starting fire.  
  
The Resistance would be your kinder.  
  
You met up with Deo and Mikayla in the hallways, now indiscernible from one another. A fourth figure eventually left his room, looping his hand in with the taller trooper. Deo and Blank? You never would have thought.  
  
Deo squeezed Blank’s covered hand reassuringly, before turning to lead the party. You marched in one long line, yourself at the very back. Similarly the other squadrons were coming together. As you marched you spotted Gam strutting with his own party, you resisted the urge to wave.  
  
You gasped softly from inside your helmet when you entered the docking area. Hot damn did the First Order have a lot of ships; round ones; Special Forces TIE Fighters, all the way to massive cargo ships, big enough to eat Vrelock's old ship.   
  
The ship your party boarded was less than spectacular, as was the ride. At least you managed not to be sick this time, that was a relief.  
  
As darkness swallowed up the sky, you made your landing on Jakku. You were thankful the group had arrived under the cover of nightfall when the air was cool; it would be simply sickening to be marching in this armor with the hot sun.  
  
As everyone regrouped among the brush and dunes, Captain Phasma stepped forward, raising her hands to collect everyone’s attention. Silence befell the crowd.  
  
“A word from your General’s.” She said; her voice carried.  
  
The Captain then nodded once, and gestured behind her. A new craft; this one of much higher quality than what the Trooper’s landed with. From the lowered gate the two General’s stepped forward. You felt a blip in the nervous excited energy. Like a surge. It was coming from somewhere in front of you.  
  
Your parallel?  
  
Captain Phasma retreated as her betters took their places at the front of the stage. General Hux had his hands clasped behind his back, and was eyeing the crowd sharply. General Ren looked more… awkward. His arms were limp at his sides, and he had his gaze forward but not really fixed on anything. (As far as you could tell with the mask anyways.)  
  
It struck you as odd, the General’s mannerisms, perhaps he was an alien. That would explain the awkwardness and the mask. Would Stormtroopers hesitate to follow one who was not human?  
  
You glanced up, as General Hux spoke, his nasally voice carrying despite the distance.

  
“We will march South at once. I want blaster teams at the ready. You are to kill anyone who tries to flee. Any villagers who surrender are to be collected and brought to the village’s center. No information can be left behind, so we will have Incinerators making rounds to burn supplies with flamethrowers. I encourage you to turn on the smoke ventilation in your helmets. I will stress it again, this is of utmost importance; somewhere in this village is a map to Luke Skywalker. It must be found.”  
  
Your eyes widened, Luke Skywalker? You had read about him in your book. It weighed on your shoulders the importance of this mission.  
  
Hux went on to describe patrols, but you had zoned out, you felt that blip again.  
What was that?  
You close your eyes, trying to pick up on the force in the area. The sensation was like a ripple- as if someone was casting a stone into the smooth surface of energy around you. As the wave passed over you, your own energy would respond with the slightest involuntary twitch. That itself made its own tiny ripple, and the stone thrower responded by doing it again.  
  
They were trying to pinpoint you by zeroing in on the force energy you gave off. Instinct made you wish to retract the feeling, and you did your best to make your presence small. Unknown to you, such a feat was known as The Art of Small; a tactic used to by Jedi to camouflage themselves.  
  
The ripple increased into a wave the searching had become frantic. Where the hell was it coming from? You slackened your efforts, letting your energy snap out like an elastic, jabbing at the direction of the source. The waves stopped. You lifted your chin and scanned the mass of soldiers before you. Who? Your eyes rose to the stage, General Hux was still talking.  
  
But General Ren… He had his head up now, hyper focused on the crowd, although you could not see them, his eyes were individually checking over every soldier within your section.  
  
You were going to be found.  
  
General Hux dismissed you. The formation broke as everyone turned to begin their march on the South. A smile snaked its way onto your face, you knew your parallel, but he didn’t know you.  
  
In line with your four comrades, you made your way to the village, blaster drawn. Being a bandit you had no moral qualms about killing. So when a man of some foreign species crossed your path brandishing a log you blasted a hole through his chest; without hesitation.  
  
Senseless violence you generally avoided, but you had to stay true to your mission. In this moment you could not hesitate. Not with General Ren having his eyes out for the Force Sensitive.

Like a machine the Stormtroopers overtook the village, the serene night erupting into panic and screaming. Columns of fire rose high into the sky, and your breath came in deeper huffs as your helmets mechanics filtered out the smoke.  
  
As you scanned the area there was movement before you, someone was escaping! A man was trying to enter an X-Wing Starfighter. Deo gestured with his hand to it, and your group hit it with blaster fire. You and Deo succeed in setting it aflame.  
  
You think you spot an exchange as a figure escaped over the dunes, but the man stays behind, pulling out a weapon and firing it into the armored white sea.  
  
To your left a Stormtrooper collapses, and to your surprise one of his squad mates bent to help him. Unusual… wasn’t it law to for troopers to continue until the battle was over? What was he doing pausing?  
  
No matter, you had to secure the area.

  
  
By mid-night all villagers had been rounded up, all in the town square. General Ren arrived shortly thereafter. As he stands before the burning town, Blank leaves your group to bring forward an elderly man.  
  
He is grizzled but determined.  
  
“Where is the starchart?” Ren demands, his electronic voice disturbing. He seems more alien now than ever, lit by the flames of the village.  
  
“I know who you used to be, you cannot escape who you really are.” The man spits, and you are taken aback. Who is he to make such demands of General Ren… And who is General Ren?  
  
You feel the force crackle, it is rage full. From his hip General Ren retrieves a weapon, bringing it to life with a flick of the wrist.  
  
What on earth? What was that thing? A sword?  
  
General raises it, then slashes it forward, and the older man’s body drops to the ground, limp.  
The sand runs red.  
There is a sudden cry of anguish, and the pilot raises his weapon before the troopers retaining him can stop him. You await the imminent harm of your leader but there is another shock-wave of energy.

The bolt stops- in mid air, frozen in place and crackling.

  
  
“Bring the pilot back to the base for interrogation.” The General says. He seems almost amused. You are dumbfounded. He turns to leave, but gives pause when Captain Phasma speaks.  
  
“And what of the villagers?” She asks.  
  
“Kill them.”

With that, General Ren takes his leave, and the bolt explodes in the air. You do as you are told, and turn to the crowd, numbly firing into the mass. When none are left standing your group boards their ships, and you retire to Starkiller base.

 

  
  
You have no dreams that night, instead you spend the early hours looking up at the ceiling.  
You shouldn’t be here; on this ship. These were matters you never should have gotten involved in.  
You had to get that mask, get it and leave this place.  
You had to get away from General Ren.

The power he had displayed last night without the slightest effort. If he could stop a bolt from a blaster with the casualness of batting a fly, what else was he capable of?  
  
What would he do when he found you?  
Now you had a distraction, but when the pilot was gone?  
You clenched and unclenched your fists, a plan putting itself together piece by piece in the back of your mind.

When dawn broke you began again like the prior events had never happened. You gathered your chef-clothing, and showered, then headed to the kitchen.  
  
In tandem with Chef Rinter you made enough scrambled eggs to fill an X-Fighter. On the side were poached eggs, bacon and fruit for the General’s (Phasma had passed on a meal today to eat with her soldiers. It was a weekday affair.) When all was put together, you left to drop them off. You were early. General Hux was in his office, and accepted the dish with nothing more than a brief 'thanks.'  
  
When you approached General Ren’s quarters, you held your energy in with every effort. But you did not feel his presence.

Strange.

You pressed the button to open the door and it gave, unlocked. You set the dish where you always did.  
  
“General?” You called. He was gone.  
  
You were alone in his quarters.  
You smiled, it was as you planned; arrive early as he interrogated the pilot, and sneak into his private quarters.

  
Passing through his office, you entered a door located in the back of the room. His private quarters. The first sight you saw was his bed, black like his clothing and neatly put together; there was also a massive window, eating up most of the room. It overlooked the barren snowy valleys.

You gazed out it a moment wistfully, then shook your head. You had a task at hand.  
  
Craning your neck to the left and right, you searched for a closet. Aha! There was a standard, tightly closed wooden door, next to another door which led to a pristine and elegant bathroom.

 

 If he had a closet, he had spare clothes, and if he had spare clothes, who was to say he didn’t have a spare mask? The Collector never said he wanted the mask right off the General’s face, now did he?  
  
This way you never even had to make contact with the General. It was genius. Steal this mask, smuggle it out, then Mind Trick someone into flying you home. Perfection.  
  
Pulling open the door you stepped into a dark room. It took your eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom. There were no clothes here. It was an entirely separate affair from the rest of the General's space. At the poorly lit rooms center, was a podium. A dramatic light shone upon it, displaying a mask, there it was!  
  
You all but ran over to it, reaching out to grab it. Wait a moment. This mask was different. No hint of silver, and completely malformed.

This was not Kylo Ren’s mask.  
It was Darth Vader’s.  
You recognized it from your book.  
Alarm bells sounded in your head, and you backed away from it.  
Almost tripping over yourself you fled from the dark room, only pausing to look back as you leaned against the bed. you shook your head resolving to come back another time.  
  
There was a slam as the metal door shut.  
Oh shit.  
_Oh shit!_  
  
You looked left, then right, there was no place to hide! The room was so goddamn minimalist!  
Frantically you looked for shelter- anything! The curtains were tiny, there was only one space- under the bed, it would have to do.

Despite being too big, you managed to wedge yourself beneath the surface- and just in time.  
  
Footsteps ghosted in the door, you could see polished black shoes from your hiding spot.   
You wanted to die.  
To disappear and sink right through the floor.  
  
Had you been trained, that may have been possible.  
But you weren’t.  
  
You watched the figures shadow, move slowly as he rotated to look around.  
  
He took a step towards the bed, then another.  
You could feel the blood pound in your ears.  
Maybe it wasn’t him.  
Maybe he didn’t notice.  
  
“ _I know you’re here._ ” His mechanical voice rasped. It sounded amused? No, predatory. 

The cat that had cornered the rat.  
  
He took another step toward the bed, you wanted to scream. His shadow turned to look around.  
You had left the door to the room with Darth Vader’s mask wide open.  
  
He immediately turned and marched into the room. His energy crackled with fury.

It was hard to keep yours retained.   
You debated making a run for it, but before you could commit he was whirling back out the door.  
  
He moved onto the washroom. You could hear him tearing open the bathroom cabinets, and throwing toiletries off the counter. He was cussing. You thought he may have even drawn his weapon- it was hard to tell from your position.  
  
Words could not describe your fear.  
  
“WHERE ARE YOU!?” He roared, slamming the bathroom door so hard you heard the wood splinter. His energy was suffocating, your heart hammered against your ribs. Your grip was slipping.  
  
Kylo Ren became very still.  
  
Your heart was so loud you bet he would discover you at any moment. A cold sweat had broken out on your forehead.  
His steps were almost silent as he approached the bed.  
  
His shoes were lined up before your face.  
This was it.  
  
  
  
Any second.  
You closed your eyes.  
  
  
  
A metal door opened and you heard Captain Phasma’s voice- loud and clear.

  
“General Ren, the pilot has escaped- along with a Stormtrooper.” She reported, she had come to a stop about halfway through is office. You couldn;t see ehr from your vantage point.  
  
“It doesn’t matter. I have what I need from him.” General Ren spat, he had not turned to face her yet.  
  
“And Supreme Leader Snoke seeks an audience with yourself and General Hux. It regards the superweapon.” She went on. This caught the General’s attention.

  
  
So it waaas Snoke, not Smoke.

  
“So be it.” General Ren said grudgingly, before exiting the room, Phasma followed.  
  
You waited until the energy faded away before finally leaving.  
You had lived.  
  
But your cover was blown; he would know it was you.  
This only delayed the inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter you'll finally interact face to face with Kylo Ren, so stay tuned!


	10. Kylo Ren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I consider this more of a filler than an actual chapter.   
> In any regard, enjoy Ren's perspective!

Kylo Ren marched down the metallic halls, Captain Phasma walking along just behind him.  
  
He was fuming, a state Supreme Leader Snoke hated seeing him in.   
Snoke would call you unstable.  
But how else should you have felt? You had finally found them- the Force Sensitive one, ever since yesterday their energies’ pulse had taunted you; elusive and as sly as a rat.   
  
That was until Jakku; when they- a she, had so foolishly snapped at you. In your franticness you had nearly missed her as she turned away with the rest of the Trooper’s. But that response was enough to get your attention.   
  
And this most recent affair had confirmed it. The one with the Force was the cook.   
Who else would have found their way into your quarters? Besides, she had left the plate behind, and the door wide open.   
  
Your fury had receded; in its place was a sense of delight.   
  
Oh how close you had been to having her in your grasp. If only Phasma hadn’t interrupted…  
 You picked up your pace so you were slightly further from her.   
  
You would show this new girl the _real_ powers of The Force. Had you have had it your way you would have dragged her out from under the bed with the most tortuous slowness; you would have raised her from the ground; plucking the rat by its tail, and watched the terror on her face-  
  
Your thoughts were broken as your eyes met the massive doors leading to Supreme Leader Snoke’s projection room. General Hux was waiting there. Your nose wrinkled disdainfully.   
  
“You’re late.” The red-head sneered.   
  
You had said a similar phrase when you first met the girl. You chuckled, the distortion of your masks giving it a sinister tone.   
  
General Hux ignored you and stepped inside, you hesitated, turning your head to speak over your shoulder.  
  
“Captain, bring Trooper TR-8690 to the interrogation room.”  
  
With that you marched onward, swallowed by the dark of Supreme Leader Snoke’s room.


	11. Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ
> 
> Finally, a full conversation between the two of you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, made my edit!  
>  Should be a smoother read now, with a bit emotional response from Reader.

The only thought in your mind was a consistent string of profanities. You were so, so screwed; so _absolutely_ screwed. A literal screw was less screwed than you.  
  
You were marching- no; sprinting down the halls of Starkiller base. Fear made careless, and in your franticness you toppled several of your fellow Trooper’s. Were you crying? You couldn’t tell, but ugly fearful noises were tearing their way out of your chest.  
  
You did not stop until you made it back to your room, shutting the door and locking it tight. For good measure you threw your nightstand in its path.  
  
How could you have been so stupid coming here? And to have thought such a foolish plan would work! You had sealed your own fate.  
  
  
Maybe you should use the time you had left to write a will.

  
For a second you just stood in the center of your room, shoulders heaving. Throughout this trip, your room had been your safe place. It was where you could read and write letters. But now it was a prison, perhaps even a grave.   
There was nowhere to hide.  
  
Your head jerked up as your door slid open.   
No time to crawl under the bed, he was here, he was going to drag you away and kill you for trespassing.  
Or maybe he would torture you first, until your life bled away. 

  
  
It was not Kylo Ren in the doorway, rather Mikayla.  
  
  
“Hey, what’s going on? Are you alright?” She asked, carefully stepping around the disregarded furniture. She was in her casual clothes, must have just come off a shift. Her large brown eyes were soft with concern.  
  
At some point you had crumpled onto the floor, if there was any doubt you were sobbing before, it was erased. You could feel the tears sting your cheeks.   
  
She knelt down beside you, rubbing your back reassuringly. “It’s gonna be okay.” She said softly. It reminded you vaguely of your mother.   
  
_No it was not._ You thought bitterly. _It was so totally not going to be okay._  
You told her so- at least tried to, between your ratcheting noises of anguish.  
  
“Look, I’m sure whatever you did isn’t nearly as bad as you think.” She said comfortingly. She had pulled your ragdoll form into a hug, which was awkward as she was much smaller than you.  
  
“I- I, I broke into K-Kylo Ren’s room. A-And tried to steal his _face_.” You wailed, and the soothing hands paused a moment.  
  
  
“Shit.” She remarked, resuming the motion. “That is bad.” You weren't looking at her face, but you could tell she was wearing a grimace.   
  
“Gee, thanks.” You managed to respond, although it came out more of a ‘ _thenks_ ’ what with your clogged nose and all. She only patted your back in response.  
  
  
  
You weren’t sure how long you lay on the floor, but as time passed your sobbing subsided, instead replaced with a cool sense of acceptance. You felt like you just went through all five stages of grief in one sitting. You eyes were puffy, and your throat raw. Mikayla’s shirt was soggy with tears and all other manners of fluid.  
  
"I'm hopeless, aren't I?" You murmured.   
  
"Even if you had fled to the ships, even if you had managed to pilot one of them outta here, they would have found you. The Order Finds _everyone_." Mikayla resounded, her voice was despondent. It made you ponder what her life was like before this. In any case, you knew she was right.  
  
You stared at the door from Mikayla’s arms, watching the metal surface over her shoulder.   
When it swished open again, Captain Phasma filled it.  
  
You got up slowly, and she addressed you by number. Your fingers were tingling.  
  
“TR-8690, you are to come with me to room 342.”  
  
You didn’t say anything, and she didn’t elaborate.  
After a heartbeat of nothingness, she took a step towards you and you lunged forward suddenly; alive with motion.

You were trying your damn best to get out the door.  
  
You made it about halfway out before realizing the hall was filled with backup. StormTroopers, at least six. He who had the broadest shoulders was the first before you, and he ate up nearly the entire width of the hall. 

As his armored hand shot out to grab you, you smashed your palm into his helmet. You drew blood immediately- a trick you learned from Tryn. With his head ducked down, you tried to slip past him, only to be snagged again, this time by a more slender trooper.   
  
Damn them! You rolled your shoulders, trying to release their grip, but it held fast. With all your weight, you surged backwards- succeeding in freeing yourself.   
  
However you lost your balance, back colliding with the wall. No, it was Phasma. You had made impact with the armor on her chest. She immediately locked her elbow around your neck.   
  
“Stop resisting!” She hissed, and you hastened your thrashing, head butting her in the chin with the crown of your head. She had had enough, her grip tightened, and you could feel pressure building in your neck. You struggles grew week, and the light faded away. 

  
_  
I thought I told you_ not _to chase your destiny. You ran right into it, literally._  
  
_Ugh._  
  
_Your instincts are terrible._  
  
_Shuddup._  
  
_Seeing as focusing on the future causes you to make bad decisions… I suggest you stay in the moment. Perhaps the path less trod will suit you. In fact don't choose a path at all. Make it up as you go along, that seems to be less problematic._  
  
_Vrelock said something like that to me once._  
  
_Vrelock is a wise man, you should take care to heed his words._

  
  
Bleariness. Your eyes opened to bleariness. An overhead light was shining directly onto your face, and you raised a hand to shade your eyes. Only you couldn't. Your hands were restrained at your sides.   
  
You blink once, the area around you slowly coming into focus. Black reinforced panels, in a circle around you. One is open, it is illuminated red. There is an array of tools fastened to it.  
  
You must have been in the interrogation room.  
You swallowed, a lump forming in your throat. The action was painful. Your neck was bruised.   
As your senses gradually returned, you reevaluated the room in sharper detail. The Force told you of a presence.  
  
Someone was before you. You could sense it.   
  
Him.  
Kylo Ren.  
His crackling energy surrounding you as if you sat in the center of a forest fire.  
  
You blinked once more, holding onto the tiniest shred of hope this was a dream. It was not. This was truly Kylo Ren, he was crouching, bent at the knee about six feet away. His face was tilted up to look into yours.

It was disturbing, being stared at through as mask, but not knowing what was beneath it.   
And he was so stalk still.   
Kind of like a doll, or a painting that would regard you from wherever it was placed.   
  
The room was silent, save for the beeps of the surrounding machinery.  
You were unsure what you had expected.   
Perhaps that you would be in worse condition, maybe tied up bleeding to death on a desert planet.  
Or being torn apart slowly by the invisible claws of the force.  
The simple silence was almost worse.  
  
You sought to break it, but no words came to mind.  
  
“Phasma has commented on your wit, but here you are; silent.” Ren finally says. His voice is hollow, it travels throughout the room with ease. 

  
  
You didn’t know what surprised you more; the fact Phasma had praised you, or the fact he- _The_ Kylo Ren- was making some form of small talk.  
  
You did not respond, instead you watched him carefully.

  
  
“What, cat got your tongue?” He mused. The distortions made him sound sinister.

 _  
  
 _ “What do you expect me to say?” You asked, voice rasping. Partly from your hurt and partly because fear caused your mouth to become dry.  
  
He stands suddenly, his form towering. Such a move makes you flinch in your restraints.  
  
  
His figure is athletic but slender. From your past brushes with him it wasn't something you had recalled. His energy made him seem... bigger.   
  
He begins circling you at a slow methodical pace. His boots made occasional scuffing sounds, and the view from under the bed was brought back to your mind.   
  
  
“You could start by informing me why you were in my quarters.” He states, from somewhere behind you.

  
  
You swallow again, your throat making a clicking noise.  
  
  
“I was just dropping off your meal.” You respond the sound you make is high and anxious. Not that of an innocent woman.  
  
  
“Really? I did not realize that included skulking around my bedroom. What were you hoping to find?” He asked, suddenly grasping the back of the chair. The sassiness of the comment is lost on you.   
  
His grip causes the mechanism to lurch, and you yelp in surprise. He releases it, and you correspondingly jostle forward.  
  
As you re-balanced yourself, he stalks in front of you. From here, he leans in for your response. He seemed to be enjoying this. You press yourself back, trying to stay as far away as possible. Your eyes glance at the mask again. It betrays no emotion. You cannot read the situation. You look away, instead fixating on the glowing red panel. You can see a scalpel from here.   
  
Time presses on.  
  
You don’t know what to say.  
What to reveal.  
What would get you into the least amount of trouble?  
You had no excuses.  
And if you told the truth… would he kill you?  
  
The room was tense and silent.  
You could feel his energy crackling around you, with the pressing promise of action. Like a distant thunderstorm.    
  
  
“What is your motif, rat.” He snaps, he finally looks away from your face, beginning his circle once again.  
  
“Is it plans, secrets, you hope to find?”  
  
“No.” You respond sternly. That you are sure of.   
  
“Wealth?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then _what!?_ ” He shouts. He slams his fists into the wall behind you, and you flinch. He must have broken the panel as you can hear exposed wires flickering. There is a tinge of smoke to the air.   
  
"TELL ME!" He roars, and there is a brilliant bolt of warmth. Is that his weapon? You can here him cutting away at every inch of wall behind you, and you await for the same fate as the circuitry. But your chair remains unharmed.   
  
He is panting now, the noise rasping hard in his mask. You turn your head to watch him as he renters your field of vision. His shoulders heave, he had indeed drawn his saber. It was crackling wildly in his hand. As if suddenly regretful, he withdraws it.   
  
You watch his face but the slit does not rise to meet you. His hands are balled into fists. He looks to you suddenly, and extends a hand parallel to his chest. It wavers slightly with his labored breathing.  
  
At first you are confused. Then you realize what he is doing. He had done a similar action to the bolt from the pilot. The force pushes you back into your chair, and you head smacks against the restraint. There is a furious stinging it your skull, which gives way to a burning. At first you try to ignore it, but it only gets worse. It is as though someone is trying to fit an object within your head, and that they are pushing your brain aside to do it. You strain forward, neck muscles taunt.   
  
Force energy prevents him from accessing your mind. It is as fortified as your will.   
  
“If you will not tell me then you will show me,” He states, his voice is cold. "I will take what I want."

 

You resist. What will he do once he knows? What will he see? He will discover you have the force. He will know you are a spy.   
  
He takes a step towards you, and the pressure builds.   
  
The rism of your vision begin to tint with darkness. Like the edges of a burning paper. If you continue like this you will blackout. Or worse, he will kill you. Perhaps the force will hold him back but you are untrained. He will wear it away. You have a feeling he will continue as long as it takes.   
  
If you died...  
  
...Vrelock would be alone.  
  
You take a breath, and let it out slow, as you do so, you let the energy pent up in your head melt through your veins. There is a surge, as though a spike has been lanced though your brain, and the pain is unbearable. You cry out. And then, it is gone; or nearly gone. It has receded to a dull ache.   
  
You think you can feel him smile, and he takes another step towards you, sealing the gap. You can feel the warmth coming off of his dark clothes. His gloved hand hovers just above your skin. Your eyes are glazed. You can see the images flashing through your mind, as he sorts through your memories as if flipping through the pages of a book.  
  
You let yourself slump back, feeling resigned and exhausted. You gaze into the slit of that damned mask and you can see the shine of his eyes. They do not seem human. They're cruel and wild.   
  
Light as a feather, you let your energy reach forward, the slightest caress- just grazing his thoughts. You can see your own playing in his, you push a little deeper. He is too focused to notice. The feeling is like putting you head underwater, as though you just pierced a layer you and't know was there.   
  
  
Images flash by, but are too quick to be taken in.  
  
Suddenly, you see a scene.  
It’s Tryn, in a hospital bed.  
No, not Tryn, you.  
You are lying on her side, in the fetal position. The armor Tryn had given you has been removed. You can see points in your skin where the armor had shattered and pierced you. The worst are covered in patches of gauze. Your skin is a network of bruises, they had really beaten you within an inch of your life.   
You look away from yourself.  
  
Captain Phasma is there, she is speaking to you, no, Kylo Ren. Her voice is strong.  
She is reporting your injuries, and where she had found you. Blood is smeared on her armor, above her shoulder. It occurs to you she must have carried you herself.  
  
Ren is not focused on her words, just your figure. His eyes are fixated on a purplish bruise on your upper arm.  
He nods when she concludes speaking, and spectating as she taker her leave.  
  
When the door shuts he slowly approaches your unconscious form; as if cautious you are suddenly going to wake up.  
He is looking at your face.  
You are surprised when he extends a gloved hand to you.  
His fingers are soft; they touch your past self’s face, your laceration.  
  
It is much worse here, wider, raised and puffy, marred with dirt. He follows the cut starting at your nose to where it ends under your eye. His hand does not stop however; instead it cups your cheek.  
  
He remains this way for a time.  
  
There is a feeling in Ren’s chest, you can detect it through the memory. It is clenched, with the slightest sensation of warmth. Fondness. You liken it to your first crush.  
   
He seems to catch himself here, and steps away from you. You’re not skilled enough to read his thoughts in the moment, but you feel some form of familiar self loathing, and he sweeps the lingering warmth away. It is replaced with icy resolve.   
  
You wish to keep watching, but there is a pain behind your eyes, as Kylo Ren suddenly withdraws.  
  
He does not seem to realize you were in his mind.    
Your stealth seemed to proceed to the force as well.  
  
You wrinkle your nose, regarding him with disgust. What were his intentions? Had he done anything to you as you recovered? You felt so terribly exposed, in mind any body.   
  
He doesn't seems to detect your emotion. His mind is elsewhere.  
  
He lets his hand drop to his side.

  
  
“Such tragedy- history repeats itself, you failed to save your own father and you have failed to save your Captain.” He says, folding his hands behind his back.  
  
“You are afraid, so afraid of losing what you hold dear that you will take risks that jeopardize it.” He muses. You feel empty because you know he is right.   
  
"When you close your eyes to sleep it is all you think about. That loneliness, that pain. The disappointment on your sister face when she found you were nothing more than a filcher. In your dreams you image fortune, and power. You fantasize about how the Force will carry you to victory; how it will change you into a white knight."

He laughs. It is a bitter bark. Perhaps the concept is familiar to him. 

  
You feel a weakness at your core, a hurt. Having your fears, your faults exposed with such ease - it wounds you, deep in your soul. You stare at the floor.  
  
  
You don't know what to expect next, you are unsure if you care.  
  
Kylo Ren then does something strange. He flicks his wrists, and your restraints are lifted.   
You do not respond, you don't even move, although your eyes very slowly lift from the floor to his mask.  
  
He continues, even stranger still.  
  
Reaching a hand to either side if his helmet, he presses some form of button. Gears click and slide, and air escapes as the mouth piece shudders out of position. He pulls the garment away.  
  
Ebony hair falls around his face in strands. He is pale, and his features are smattered with freckles. He has a prominent nose and plump lips. His eyes are dark, and regard you with interest.  
  
This was Kylo Ren? This handsome young man was of the most feared in the galaxy?  
The shock must be plain on your face as he smiles at you. Actually smiles.  
  
You feel as though you have been speared through the hole he had left your chest.  
He approaches you, extending the helmet before him, and drops it into your lap.  
  
“If this is what you seek, take it and go.” He murmurs. His true voice is the same baritone, but lacking the rasp. It is pleasant to the ear.   
  
  
Your hands fold over it numbly.  
Is he serious?  
Are you free?  
  
You expect him to force you back again, to feel a sensation of red hot pain. But he is motionless.   
  
You stand hesitantly.  
  
He raises and hand and you flinch though it is not directed at you.  
 The door slides open.  
  
Your brain struggles to understand.  
Surely this is a trap.  
You turn away from him, facing the door. You expect him to say something but he doesn’t.  
  
You look over your shoulder at him and he is not watching you, he is looking at the chair.  
You run through the door, expecting him to stop you, but he does not.  
  
You force your feet to move. The energy is apprehensive.   
  
It feels wrong, walking away.  
Your head is telling you to run, but your instinct argue for you to stay.   
You think of Qui-Gon Jinn’s words.  
  
You raise the helmet in your hands, looking into the now empty slit.  
You were free.  
You had the mask.  
You had done what you set out to do,  
so why did this feel so wrong?  
  
To your left and right the hallways were barren.  
You had no doubt the path was clear.  
You took a few steps to the left. No boots on metal. Just quiet.  
  
You turned slowly, walking back into the room, your footsteps were soundless.  
Kylo Ren was facing away from you, like he was deep in thought.  
  
You bite your lip. Your head was empty, your body moving of its own accord.  
You approach him like a lost child.  
  
“I… Do not wish to leave.” You say, your voice is just a whisper.   
  
This was stupid, so incredibly stupid.  
You were lining up for the slaughter.  
And yet, you never felt more right.  
  
Slowly, Ren turns to face you, his features surprised but not displeased.  
You extend the helmet to him but he makes no effort to take it.  
  
“Why?” He asks. You try not to look at his lips.  
  
  
“This feels right.” You respond.  
His brow furrows as though he doesn’t understand.   
  
Words finally form in your head.  
  
“You… you know how to use that energy, I want you to show me. Show me the ways of The Force.” You state, the shake has gone from your voice. There is only resolve.


	12. Change of Scenery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out learning under Ren gets you some new perks! Sah-weet!

Silence lapse between the two of you for a moment, and it suddenly occurs to you he may reject your request. Your hands drop a fraction in dejection.  
  
Kylo Ren tilts his heads just slightly.   
  
“Then I will take you on as my… apprentice.” He finally says, his eyes aren’t focused on you, they are elsewhere. As if he is reliving something in his mind. The way he speaks the words make you think the phrase is familiar to him. You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from asking about it.   
  
When his eyes do focus, they are on you, burrowing straight back into yours with an intensity that made you want to step back. He takes the helmet from your hands and slips it back on again, the mechanisms hiss and click as they slide back into place. There is a sort of ‘shump’ as it seals.  
  
Once again, he is back to being unreadable. You frown internally more disappointed than you would like to admit.   
  
He turns away from you, walking out the door. As soon as his figure passes out of sight you hear him speaking with someone. The conversation is hardly concise, and long enough that your attention begins to wander. To your right you can see the electrical panel is still flickering. The whole area has been decimated, burnt slashes wrought deep into the metal; some places were still red-hot along the edges. Maybe you should have taken your chance at freedom, now you would have to deal with this… rage.   
  
As you contemplate this, Captain Phasma enters the room. You look away, feeling awkward. If she was gonna drag you somewhere else you silently decided you would just comply. Less headlocks that way.   
  
“TR-8690, you are to come with me.” She states. You nod once, not looking up at her towering form. She was even taller than Kylo Ren, and scared you just a tiny bit more. As if suspicious you will attack her she does not move until you are at her side, and walking in tandem. It’s hard to keep up with her long strides, so you compensate by taking two steps to her one.   
  
As you pass down the halls all manner of Stormtrooper begin climbing out of the woodwork. Some crawl up from maintenance panels, others from hidden hallways. As they enter your field of view, they lower their weapons, arming the safety once again.   
  
As you watched your feet pass over iron after iron it dawns on you that there never really was a choice. You wagered if you had taken the helmet and ran you would have been filled with holes; or perhaps taken captive.   
  
You were suddenly very grateful for Qui-Gon Jinn’s advice.

Your footsteps halted with Phasma’s as she directed you into a narrow hall. You followed it to a single door, which you gently pushed open, it had no knob. Inside was a black room, with a single table at its center. On either side there was a chair.

It was an interrogation room if you had ever seen one. Phasma walks in behind you, and gestures for you to take a seat. You oblige.  
  
The chair is stainless steel, and terribly cold and uncomfortable, you sit awkwardly with your knees together, fidgeting as Phasma takers her place across from you. She removes her helmet as she settles, and long golden locks pool around her face. She is beautiful.   
  
Why did everyone where a mask if they were so hot!?

“I’m going to ask a few questions, please answer with the truth, the whole truth and only the truth.” She says, looking into your face. Her bright blue eyes are unwavering. The attention makes you squirm, and you begin rubbing your hands together subconsciously.   
  
“Sure.” You agree.  
  
“Who sent you here?”  
  
“I uh, was hired by some guy called ‘The Collector’.” You responded shortly.   
  
“Was he a member of The Resistance?”  
  
“Mm, not that I could tell, he didn’t seem to be playing for either side.”  You admit, looking at the table. It was the truth; you had seen no indication during your stay that he had a favourite.   
  
Phasma produces a pad and paper, and begins scribbling something down. You watch the joints of her metallic gloves. Your face reddens when she catches you doing so.   
  
“Did he have anyone with him?” She continues, not missing a beat.  
  
“Well, he had two female servants, and he had a band of… mercenaries I think? Who wore all black and hid their faces. Although they came in later, they weren’t with him from the start.” You went on, straining to recall all the details.   
  
She nods and continues writing- this exchange continues until your eyelids begin to droop as she covers the ground everywhere from your family to your Captain to the pieces of junk you had seen in The Collectors home. The exercise is mind-numbing, and you’re both running through the motions until she utters a particular question.

  
“Have you experienced any other force powers, met any other force users, or had any premonitions since your awakening?”   
  
You hesitate.  
  
“I… I think I may have influenced… Someone while raiding a war zone.” You levy. “And aside from Kylo Ren I haven’t felt anyone else, at least not of note. There are some here that I pass you have the slightest… pulse, but nothing note-worthy.” You confess. You leave out Qui-Gon Jinn’s contacts with you. Something in your mind told you Kylo Ren had not seen it in your head.   
  
Phasma writes this response down as well, although she takes a great deal longer than all other instances. You lean back, feeling self-conscious and tired. You take a moment to stretch out your legs under the table, careful not to bump Captain Phasma as she writes.   
  
Breathing a sigh, You use the lapse in questioning to let your mind wander.

What a day! You wanted to just climb back into your bed and be done with it all. If only you could open your eyes and find yourself back on Vrelock’s ship.

Everything was so much easier then.

 Stupid Force.   
  
Phasma closes her notebook with a great suddenness, and gets to her feet. You are too tired to startle, and simply look up at her form from your seat. You had slumped down so you were practically lying in the chair. She looked even taller from this angle.   
  
She cracked a smile, looking amused.   
  
“Just a few more things and we’re done.” She promised, and you groaned but got to your feet.   
She first had you step on a scale, which was built into the floor. Then she strung a tape from your head to your toes. Then around your arms, thighs, calves, the length of each, even your shoulder width, hips, and bust. There wasn’t a part of you she missed. Each number went into her book.  
  
You couldn’t imagine what this was for.   
  
“Alright, we’re done.” She finally said, and you raised your arms in praise to the gods.   
  
“Finally!” You cheered.   
Phasma gave a puff of air, something akin to a stifled snort, and gathered her helmet and notes. With that she turned to the door, giving one jerk of her head to indicate you should follow.   
  
You did so, lagging behind just slightly as she wound all over the place once again. The path was still indiscernible, but you did note a change in decor. Here the panels of metal turned to stark black instead of off silver.  There were lights every few paces built into the wall.   
  
You looked around in wonder, at as to how deep inside or far outside you were.   
  
“Here you are.” Phasma said, gradually coming to a stop. Another door, this one sleek and chrome, with a number carved into it ‘108’. It had a slot which required a key card. Phasma pressed one into your palm as you turned to inquire about it.   
  
With a swift swipe the door slid open.  
  
It revealed quite the room, significantly larger than even the one you had on the ship. There was a sort of seating area, and a doorway in the back leading to what looked like a bedroom. Further inspection proved this true. And within that room was another doorway, which led to a lovely washroom, complete with an elegant claw foot tub.   
  
You returned to the bedroom leaping onto the bed. You gave it a few good-natured jumps before  lying flat on your tummy.  
  
It was so delightfully soft. You sunk into it.   
  
“This will be your new quarters. You will remain with the same team until a replacement is found. You have been relieved of your culinary duties and will now be enlisted in special training. This will include combat training, as well as saber training. General Ren will also oversee Force Training. Meals will be brought three times a day at the same time. A letter will be sent with a more detailed schedule.” She concluded, stepping from your doorway.    
  
Before you could say more, she stalked away, the door slamming shut behind her.  
You rolled onto your back, looking up at the ceiling.  
  
Did they just… have these rooms to spare? Empty, just kicking around? Or did they have it made for you? These thoughts flitted through your mind as you examined your new surroundings.  
  
The bedroom was the largest room, wider than the one seen when entering. The walls were a dark purple, and the carpet was black. The bed had a jet-black wooden headboard, and black sheets and pillows. One huge window was set into the wall, with curtains drawn tight.   
You pulled them open to gaze out across the barren snowy land. It made you feel small. You gave yourself a moment of peace, allowing your gaze to wander through the tar-black trees.   
  
The view was the same as that in Kylo Ren’s room. You shivered- the chill staying with you. Perhaps you needed a sweater.

There was a dresser pressed to one side, which you pulled open in search of warmer clothes. Empty.   
  
As you stood examining the drawers, the familiar sound of a sliding door was carried to your ears, and you heard someone walking in the entrance room. You peered through the doorway from where you stood, stretching to see from where you were standing. The door you came in was firmly closed. You heard a soft thump, followed by footsteps, and the door sound again.   
  
Curiously, you poked your head in the entrance room. Your bag sat in the center of the table in the seating area, along with a small bundle.   
  
Within your bag were your belongings and clothes, crammed in a less than organized manner- as if someone wanted to get it done as quickly as possible. Your stuffed animal rested on top, and you tucked him under your arm with care. The bundle comprised of letters, along with parchment and pens.   
  
You gathered your loot in your arms, offering one last quickly glance around the room.

Then you spotted it.

A sleek all black door, set into the wall. A red light where the knob would be indicated it was locked. That must have been where whoever had come in. It unnerved you, the idea someone could waltz in at any time. But even so, this room was significantly better than your old one.

With a frown, you stalked back to the bedroom. Er, your bedroom. Carefully placing your stuffy on the bed, you dumped your bag onto the sheets, rifling through for clothes. With pajamas consisting of shorts and a tank-top under your arm, you made your way to the washroom. You drew a hot bubble bath, which caused the mirrors to steam. You didn’t budge until your legs were jello and your hands were reduced to prunes.

You dried off with a towel thick and soft enough to smother a hutt. You then slipped into your pajamas, feeling dead tired, and for once- relaxed.   
  
You didn’t bother to clear away you things, just crawled under the heavy blanket. Sleep claimed you immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter finally, and another after this!
> 
> While this is another sort of 'filler chapter' I should warn the next one gets a little heavier.


	13. Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so your training begins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little warning here, this chapter involves verbal abuse, so read with caution.

You awoke naturally, with no ungodly alarm blaring in your ears. It was amazing; you pushed the heavy blankets aside, your room illuminated by sunlight. The sky was usually overcast- at least from the scant few times you had seen it. The brightness only served to further improve your mood. As you inspected the view once more, a delightful scent flooded your senses.  
  
Fooooood!  
  
Like an over excited toddler, you made your way to the sitting area where a plate sat in the center of the table. It must have gotten here only a few moments ago. It was still warm. Pancakes, bacon, and some fruit you had never seen before. You set fork to plate. It tasted even better than it smelled! You were halfway through the plate before you even realized there was a note tucked under it. It could wait. You polished off the plate in no time flat, wiping your mouth on your arm before finally scooping up the note. Replacing it with the plate.  
  
Room 610 at 10:15, in uniform.  
  
Was all it said, the handwriting was mediocre at best.  
What a long winded note. Real glad they used a full sheet of paper for that one.  
  
You stood, curious about the whole occasion. Before you could consider it further, there was a knock at your door. You hadn’t even had a chance to respond before a studious man slid it open, stepping in with great fervor.  
  
“Ma’am.” He greeted, although it came out as more of a statement. He looked you over once with disdain before shoving a heap of fabric into your arms.  
  
“Should fit like a glove, send word if anything pinches. Not that it should.” The man stated, before turning on his heel and leaving.  
  
What was his deal?  
  
You unfolded the garment, finding it having many pieces, each impossible to discern from the next, seeing as they were all black.

 There was a tank top of sorts, as well as black pants, made of some kind of close fitting elastic material. There were also gloves, and a large robe or jacket. It had a massive hood, and was long enough to cover your knees. It had some armor-like leather detailing on the back. It fit just as well as the man stated, framing your figure elegantly.  
  
You hated to admit it, but you felt pretty cool wearing it. Like some kind of super-villain. Or thief mastermind. You delighted in the fact. Up until your eyes caught the time on a clock fixed high on the wall opposite to you. It was 10:00! You had to go! Where even was room 610!?  
  
You scrambled to flatten your messy hair and brush your teeth, before flying out the door. A Stormtrooper was thankfully waiting outside for you.  
  
“Cutting it close are we?” He jested.

It was Gam!  
  
“You have no idea,” You panted, hopping as you pulled on a boot that was resting by your door.

“Please tell me you know where room 610 is.” You panted, grabbing his shoulder for balance.  
  
“Well of course.”

  
With that he set off, and you followed at his shoulder.

You kicked yourself for not checking the schedule. It had probably clarified all this. At least they had the courtesy to send in Gam; or you never would have made it, not with all the time in the world. This place was a goddamn maze after all.  
  
He stopped outside another silver door, this one wider than the rest. He gestured for you to enter. And you did so, one cautious step after another.  
  
It was a training area, the whole room actually quite large. There were also tons of lights, making the place well illuminated. This is probably where 90% of the power bill came from. 

Trotting along the springy mats lining the floor, you were met by Captain Phasma.  
  
“Good to see your uniform is fitting well. I nearly shot that damn tailor for pegging me with doing all the measurements.” She said casually.  
  
You nearly did a double take. Was this the same women who had head-locked you into sleepy-town? The same women who was the right hand of Kylo Ren?  
  
“I don’t blame you, he seems pretentious. Like a little weasel man.” You said, nodding your head in utmost seriousness. There was a crackle from her helmet, which you assumed was a voice-tuned over laugh. It was creepy, and that made you laugh too.  
  
She waved her arm, as if to clear the whole situation away, and then straightened. You mirror her movement.  
  
“General Ren informed me that you are not truly a Stormtrooper. Rather a thief.”  
  
You gulped.  
  
“Which means you’ve missed out on valuable training; It’s my personal duty to take you to Stormtrooper standard, and higher.” She went on to say. You let out a relieved breath you hadn’t known you were holding. It seemed she held no animosity towards you, despite the unusual if dodgy circumstances. 

  
The exercise started out with warm-ups, jogging in place, stairs, burpees, stretching. That alone had you puffing, and then you moved on to actual fighting. Sort of, it was mostly stance- having your legs the right distance apart, and all that. You could recall a lot of it with from your review with The Collector as much as you hated to admit.  
  
You were moved on to punches, two quick shots to the face, one to the chest two to the gut one to the groin.

It was rinsed and repeated; the thing about Phasma was that you could never half-ass it. You had no target, no punching bag, no nothing, but you still had to give it your all.  The second she caught your swings lightening up she would do this sort of back hand slap to your arm, and yell “Tch!” like she was training a dog.  
  
Rest didn’t come until class was over. Your tank top was sticking to you. At least you had the smarts to shuck your robe before fighting, lest it also become sweaty.

At this point you were crumbled on the nearest mat, guzzling water Phasma had provided between pants. She took to your right, clapping you on the back. It made you choke on your water. She sat with her legs folded. It looked uncomfortable with the armor. It seemed odd she was still wearing it, perhaps she still didn't trust you. Not that you could blame her.  
  
“You have promise.” She nodded, she had taken off her mask at some point. Despite your exhaustion you gave her thumbs up. She leaned back, watching you out the corner of her eye, until you finally set down the now-empty bottle. You crumpled it up in your fist just because and she shook her head, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Probably amused by your childish habits.   
  
“General Ren will be teaching your saber training.” She informed, getting to her feet. With that she strode to the side of the gym, you coughed again, suddenly nervous.  
  
You slid your cloak on, adjusting the hood back into place as he walked in. You were unsure if you should greet him or not, or really what you should do at all. So you just stayed where you stood. He crossed the gym so he was before you.

Forget what you said earlier about his energy making him _seem_ bigger. He was huge now that he was looming ahead of you!

 From somewhere in his belt he retrieved a metal object, which he tossed to you.  
  
Unprepared you floundered for a moment, nearly dropping it, before holding it securely.

And this was..?  
  
Parallel to you, he retrieved his own, and with a flick of his wrist, brought it to life; cross-beamed and wild crackling red. He waited no time suddenly charging towards you, and you jumped with surprise, almost dropping your lightsaber. It took you a moment to turn it on, before a pale red bolt hummed to life. It was upside down, and you left a lovely burn on your thigh before you had a chance to correct it.   
  
You brought it up just in time to deflect a strike to your abdomen. He raised it again, this time from the left. You parried, then parried again, before missing a beat. His strokes were heavy handed and wild, with lots of power behind it. Even so, you thought he was holding back.   
He jabbed you in the upper arm and you yelped. There was no pause. It occurred to you they sabers must have been on a low setting. Otherwise your arm would be on the floor.  
  
He picks up the pace, the slashes coming quicker and quicker. Parry, parry, slash, duck, slash, slash. He jabs you again in the ribs.

You try to dodge by leaping to the side, but his steps are wide and he closes the distance without trouble. Sweat prickle son your forehead again.   
  


At some point you stopped trying to block his hits and just started rapidly backpedaling; that is until your back hit the wall behind you.

The jolt deactivates your saber and you close your eyes, mentally preparing to get stabbed into Swiss Cheese. His hand slaps the wall near your head, and you await the fiery bolt of pain. Except you didn’t feel a burning, or any hurt at all. You slowly open your eyes.

He was leaning over you, breath rasping in his mask. He was close enough that you could feel his heat.  
  
There _was_ a burning.  
Deep and seductive in your core.  
Perhaps you would have taken things further if Captain Phasma wasn’t watching. You could see her over his shoulder.   
  
You fumbled for your weapon, activating it just under his arm with a stabbing motion imitating what a little kid would do during play to imitate jabbing someone through the heart.  
  
Phasma clapped, and General Ren stepped away, disarming his saber.  
  
He goes on as if nothing happens, marching back to the center of the gym.  
  
“Your initial instincts are good, but you’re quick to fear. Running won’t win you any battles.” He says. You nod as you make your way back to the center circle. Your heart is still pounding.  
  
“Is all the training going to be like this?” You ask, before he says anything else.  
  
“There are seven different forms of lightsaber technique.  I was seeing if you had a particular talent towards any.”

You open your mouth to inquire about it but he cuts you off.  
  
 “You don’t.” He informs.  
  
You tried not to be disheartened.  
  
He prepares to continue, but the door glides open, General Hux striding in.  
  
  
“General Ren, a word.” He states, his voice is cold. Two Trooper's arrive at the door.   
  
  
He was kind of like the weasel-tailor, you thought. Maybe they were cousins.  
  
  
“I’m not sure you’ve noticed, but we have a base to run. You can play with your new toy later.” Hux went on, his voice a sneer. General Ren let out a growl, which you were sure, only you heard.   
  
Who was he calling a toy? You frowned. The idea of being owned didn't appeal to you.   
  
Ren nodded to Phasma, who took his place in the center of the gym, before exiting.  
  
You felt the same pang of disappointment, along with mild relief.  
  
"So much of 'Ren being my teacher.'" You sighed, looking to Phasma. She shrugged her shoulders.  
  
"It can't be helped." She went on to say, bringing a hand up to smooth her hair. A few had sprung free of the pony-tail she had pulled it in.  
  
"Are you versed in lightsaber training?" You asked, an eyebrow cocked curiously. Did the First Order offer that sort of thing?  
  
"I read up on it in my data-pad." She said proudly, nodding her head. You snorted, but didn't offer a jibe. Even if she had only done some light reading she was still better informed then you. Heck, you didn't even recognize the weapon as a lightsaber until General Ren turned his on. 

  
The rest of the afternoon went with practicing the basics of each of the first three forms. You had taken a liking to form two; Makashi. It was elegant and focused, and a delight to perform, although you often got caught up in the steps. Each form had particular steps- motions you were to run through as you made way through the battle. It was rough work, trying to focus on these along with fighting, and you sustained another burn right in the center of your belly.  
  
“Gutted!” Phasma had said with amusement. You tried not to glower.  
  
You didn’t mind saber training, it passed a lot faster than the hand-to-hand stuff, and came more naturally. Not so say you were actually any good. You had four burns to prove that wasn’t the case.  
  
Phasma dismissed you, after running through the third form again, and you gladly retreated to your room, arms aching. A hot shower was all you wanted. Although you settled for a room-temperature one after you felt the hot water on one of your burns.  
  
Food was there when you dressed again- this time in your casual wear, which you did while gazing out your doting view. The charcoal sky told you it was night. Dinner consisted of a dish you weren’t familiar with. It was some kind of pasta, and tasted different- kind of sour if anything- but you didn’t mind it.  
  
As you pushed it aside, you decided to look over the bundle of letters. Retrieving them from the mess on your bed, you returned to your seat on the couch. You had to ease into a sitting position.   
  
One from Vrelock, one from The Collector, and one from nobody at all; it was your schedule, you looking that one over first.   
All you had left was Force training, which was every other day. It started at 7:30pm and ended at 9.   
You weren’t looking forward to having your mind dug through again. If that was what it consisted of. Maybe you would learn how to pick up stuff with your mind.   
  
A glance at the clock told you it was 6:52. You had time.  
  
You opened Vrelock’s letter first.  
  
“Hey Snowbloom,  
  
Glad to hear from you. Cooking sounds like a decent gig. You get any closer to nabbing that mask for us?  
  
Everyone says hi by the way. And we got a new member, short little one. A bit younger than you, he’s staying in your room right now- hope you don’t mind; seemed like a waste leaving it empty. He’s a pretty decent negotiator, managed to talk us through the Western border security the other day. I think you would like him.  
  
Write me when you can,  
  
-Vrelock.”

  
  
You frowned, folding up the letter. There was the tinniest seed of jealousy in your chest; perhaps bitterness as well.

 You didn’t know you were so easily replaceable.

Cracking your knuckles, you fetched some parchment.  
  
  
“Hey Vrelock!  
  
Sorry I haven’t sent anything in a while. Uh, this new guy sounds interesting. Just don’t let him mess with any of my stuff.  
  
I’m actually not a chef anymore…And my covers been blown. Did you know there’s a guy who can use the force here? (Did you know about the force? I have it, apparently.) He sniffed me out. I actually almost had the mask too. But then I was found. And knocked out, and then I got interrogated, and then I got promoted, and then I got a new room. Some good with the bad I suppose. It’s been a really interesting few days to say the least. I don’t know when I’ll be back; things have kind of gone off course.  
  
Also I’m also Kylo Ren’s new apprentice.  
I should probably mention that.

  
Maybe they’ll let me visit you guys?  
  
Tell the family I said hi back. I really miss you all.  
  
-Love, Snowbloom.”

  
You read it over once. Did it sound passive aggressive? You shrugged your shoulders, unsure if you cared. With a deft hand, you folded the letter up, popping it in an envelope. You jot down the address to their box, before putting it aside. Someone would probably come in and mail it for you.  
  
  
Disregarding The Collectors letter, you laid back, staring up at the ceiling. Would you ever be able to go home? What would happen when you did? Vrelock seemed to be taking a shining to this new guy. Maybe he was just lonesome without you. It had to be boring around there without their bard. Who was telling tales while everyone got drunk?  
  
You subconsciously rubbed the burn on your stomach. Vrelock didn’t mention his wounds; he must have been fully healed. His letters didn’t sound pained anymore, or lonely. In fact he sounded quite happy.  
  
He was happy without you.  
Something about that made your core hurt. And your brain.  
  
  
“Having dark thoughts are we?”  
  
Your head snapped up. General Ren, you hadn’t heard him enter. He must have come in that side door. Had he been in your head the whole time?  
  
“Just for the last part.” He clarified. He wasn’t wearing his mask.  
  
You glared at him, forgetting yourself. How dare he, snoop on your private thoughts! You couldn’t give an Ewok’s ass if he went pawing through your mission, but your personal feelings- that was the worst. It was like when he dredged up all those truths about your dreams.  
  
Ren took a seat in a plush chair across the table from you.  
The movement in itself was odd. Like he was forcing himself to look lax. His lengthily form made the chair look small.   
  
“Stay out of my head.” You warned, eyes narrowed. He frowned at you. Not taking a liking to your sudden boldness. Perhaps out of spite he raised his hand, and you were forced back against the couch. He was leaning forward now, his other hand resting braced against his knee, as if the whole motion was straining. Perhaps it was.   
  
Despite the distance he reached into your mind, and you felt the same agonizing pain in your skull.  Teeth clenched, you tried your best to resist, but he managed to tear his way through. There was the same flash of images, and flipping sensation as he picked apart the letter through your minds eye.   
  
“Oh I see; you’re no longer Daddy’s favourite.” He mused after a moment, sitting back as if nothing had happened.  
  
“He is like a father to you right? Parents are disappointing.” He mulled, crossing his legs casually. 

You wiped sweat from your forehead, lurching forward. The day had you exhausted, and you weren’t mentally prepared to deal with this shit too. You glared at him from where you were slumped, he was slightly obstructed by the fringe of your bangs.   
  
“He’s a good man.” You protested.  
General Ren scoffed.  
  
“Would a good man send away the people he cared about? Would a good man let you throw yourself onto a ship in some distant galaxy? Would a good man replace you after a month?” He questioned, his voice getting louder and louder. His words grated on your nerves- which were still sensitive from his last barrage.   
  
“Shut up!” You snarled back, getting to your feet- your exhaustion forgotten. Anger fueled you.  
  
“What do you know? I- I knew the risks I took. I knew the distance. He needed me to do this!” You were screaming.  
  
“Do what? You’ve failed you mission.”  
“ You failed and now you’ve been replaced.” He said, he wasn't evening looking at you. As if you weren't worth his time.  
 He looked remarkably calm.  
  
Your fists tightened, rage red and hot at your center.  
  
“Stop.” You warned your voice a hushed whisper; written all over with warning.  
He got to his feet at this, and took a few threatening steps towards you.

You held your ground and he seized your face, forcing your head up to look at him.  
  
“Look me in the eye and tell me, who haven’t you failed? There is not a single chapter in your life you haven’t _fucked_ up.”

  
  
Something inside you finally snapped. It was as if there had been a beast caged at your center, gradually slipping free. And this final blow had finally severed its binds.   
  
In one fluid movement you snatched yourself away, and raised a hand. You gave one heaving gesture, as if pushing away an invisible obstacle- and  General Ren was shoved back, all the way back into the wall nearest you. You pulled your hand back towards you in surprise, and all the furniture came with it, dragged feet towards you.    
  
You didn’t see Ren’s expression; you were too caught up in the emotion, the energy. Now that crackling forest fire was yours.  
  
“You’re wrong!” You spat, raising your fist up, the furniture went with it. You slammed your fist downwards, and the couches came down too. The stack of papers scattered on the floor.  
  
 The whole movement exhausted you, and you dropped to your knees in despair.   
  
“You have to be wrong.” You whispered.  
"He needs me. I have to do this. Why else would I still be here."

  
  
Ren was regaining himself. You were sobbing now.  
  
Your torrent of rage ebbed away, leaving you feeling like a shell. You covered your face with your hands.

You heard Kylo Ren sit down next to you. He pulled you from where you sat into his lap, although you hardly noticed, you were trying to put yourself back together. He rested his chin on your head, one hand rubbing comforting circles on your back. If you had been yourself you would have made a joke about the awkwardness in his movements. About how tentative he seemed.   
  
It didn’t occur to you, the strangeness of the gesture.  
  
There was coldness in your chest now that hadn’t been there before. You felt sick.  
You swallowed once, resting your forehead against his chest. At least he was warm.  
  
You stayed like that for what seemed like a long time, until your sobs degraded to sniffles, and then silence. It occurred to you that he had been goading you on, waiting for a response.  
  
“I’m sorry.” He said softly, the words stirring your hair.  
  
He had done his damnedest to illicit a very particular response; coaxing the beast from its lair.    
You could see that now.  
  
“What was that?” You finally asked, you voice raw.  
  
“The dark side.” He murmured.  
  
 


End file.
